Violator
by INeverExplainAnything
Summary: AU "Vows are spoken to be broken. Feelings are intense. Words are trivial. Pleasures remain. So does the pain." Violator (Noun). A person who breaks or fails to comply with a rule or formal agreement.
1. Clean

Violator _(Noun_ ): A person who breaks or fails to comply with a rule or formal agreement.

Chapter One: Clean

 _"Clean  
_ _The cleanest I've been  
_ _An end to the tears  
_ _And the in-between years  
_ _And the troubles I've seen_

 _Now that I'm clean  
_ _You know what I mean  
_ _I've broken my fall  
_ _Put an end to it all  
_ _I've changed my routine  
_ _Now I'm clean_

 _I don't understand  
_ _What destiny's planned  
_ _I'm starting to grasp  
_ _What is in my own hands  
_ _I don't claim to know  
_ _Where my holiness goes  
_ _I just know that I like  
_ _What is starting to show  
_ _Sometimes"_

* * *

Sometimes, life is not what you planned. Sometimes, it's worse. Sometimes, it's better. But moreover, no matter how much you try, you cannot control the path your ship takes. Oh, you can guide it – with force of will and strength, you can steer it against the waves of change and fight until your last breath to keep your life on course. But, if the sea wishes, it will take you and your ship to lands unknown and from there you must do your best to adapt.

Georg had been told this, by his grandfather, when he was a small child. His grandfather, a self proclaimed wise man, who, much to Georg's grandmother's annoyance, would recall to young Georg strange and enchanting tales of how he commanded ship after ship. These stories were always fanciful, but when you're a child you'll believe anything. Or at least, believe anything if you know your grandfather will give you a piece of chocolate and the promise of more exciting tales. But then Georg had grown up, and left these silly stories behind.

However, he had still followed the footsteps of his grandfather, and father, before him and been called by the sea. He had joined the Imperial and Royal Austro-Hungarian Navy and graduated four years later. But after several voyages and posts on multiple cruisers, Georg had decided that a life under the sea was for him. Submarine ships did not care for waves, or stormy weather. They soared through the depths, silent and undetected, not caring what was happening above. It was this that an older Georg had told his grandfather: you can control the path your ship takes – you just need the right ship.

Order, control, discipline. These were the principles he had lived by in his career and they have served him well. He had fought bravely, kept a cool head and maintained a tight ship. This had resulted in many medals, a name for himself in the Austro-Hungarian Empire and the respect of his fellow officers. He had become his own man, and he had hoped that his grandfather would be proud. But it had all come crashing down. The empire lost. The sea gone. There was no use for him anymore. And so he had returned to his home, knowing that he at least had his beloved Agathe and their dear children.

But then God, Fate or whoever – whatever, was in charge of the universe had decided that Georg von Trapp still had too much happiness and so they had taken the last of it. It was then that Georg had remembered what he had said to his grandfather all those years ago, that a submarine was silent and undetected as it moved through the ocean. And he could do that too; he could maintain some sense of control as the rest of his world fell away. The children could have a governess, and maybe a nanny for the younger children. Other teachers could be hired.

It had worked, to an extent. Over the past four years he had hired twenty-six different people to keep his children in line. Eleven governesses, three nannies and twelve other teachers had come and gone. It had turned into a grotesque routine of sorts. Go to Vienna, receive call from a frazzled Frau Schmidt, return home, reprimand children, hire replacement, return to Vienna, enjoy a few months of peace and then the whole process was repeated.

Elsa's mother had suggested during one evening that he send them to boarding school and be done with it, but he couldn't do that. Despite what his children and staff believed, he still had a heart. And he would not subject his children to the kind of education he had had.

And so he sailed on, believing the false sense of security that he felt in his little submarine as he moved through the ocean, unaware that above him the water was frozen and eventually he'd drown.

* * *

 **A/N** Another story? Yes I know; I clearly have a problem. Anyway, I've been listening to the album "Violator" by Depeche Mode a lot lately and realised how many songs are so damn fitting. One of the songs on the album is called "Blue Dress" – I mean, come on, how could I not? Plus, gotta love me some old Brit synth-pop.

This story will be from the Captain's perspective and will have a slight dark tone to it. Nothing overly sinister but I like my angst and I'm happiest writing it more than anything else, and since I wrote this listening to these songs that will be reflected within the story.


	2. Sweetest Perfection

Chapter Two: Sweetest Perfection

" _The sweetest perfection  
_ _To call my own  
_ _The slightest correction  
_ _Couldn't finely hone  
_ _The sweetest infection  
_ _Of body and mind  
_ _Sweetest injection  
_ _Of any kind_

 _I stop and I stare too much  
_ _Afraid that I care too much  
_ _And I hardly dare to touch  
_ _For fear that the spell may be broken"_

* * *

It wasn't supposed to be like this, Georg told himself. Number twenty-seven or more precisely, _governess number twelve_ , was the epitome of everything that infuriated Georg. She clearly lacked discipline; the words "permission" and "respect" were clearly missing from her personal dictionary, as she seemed unable to grasp how they worked. The stern, hard-faced nun that he'd been expecting had turned out to be some girl, who looked like she wasn't much older than Liesl, with a stupid smile permanently etched on her face. And there was the fact that she wasn't even a nun – she was a postulant. She hadn't taken her vows – though, the thought of that girl taking anything so serious as vows made him want to laugh. If it wasn't for the fact that he was sure he'd hired every other available governess in Salzburg he'd have had her shipped back to the Reverend Mother, in brown paper packaging tied up with string, the moment he'd found her in his ballroom.

He scowled into his drink as he sat at his desk, his fingers tapping an infuriated rhythm along the hard wooden surface.

"Georg?"

Clearing his expression, he gazed up into the welcoming visage of Elsa, who was peering at him through the door with as close to concern as she could muster without betraying her carefully cool exterior. The diamonds on her ears sparkled and the effect was slightly hypnotising. Though, the hazy effect was probably more due to the fact that'd he'd consumed nearly half of bottle of brandy.

"Yes, darling?" he asked.

"While you do look very handsome sitting in here, brooding like some Bronte-esque hero, I think you should come and join me and Max," Elsa said with a smile, as she walked over to the side of his desk to place a perfectly manicured hand on his shoulder.

Georg managed to arch an eyebrow at her before he stood up and took her hand. "Of course."

He didn't particularly feel like conversing with his two guests right now. He had wanted some peace and quiet, a chance to get away and sort the tangled mess of his own thoughts.

The past few weeks since his return from Vienna had been life changing. And not in some dramatic, altering way, but simply reconnecting with his children had shifted Georg's view of the world. It was still difficult sometimes, especially if the children had misbehaved. He had a tendency to still lose his temper. Most of the time, it happened with governess number twelve.

 _Governess number twelve._

That was what he tried to refer to her as. Or just the "governess". Because if he dehumanised her, it made it easier. She was just another number, just another employee.

Because that's what she should have been but she wasn't. The absolutely infuriating slip of a girl he'd met a few weeks ago had suddenly become everything to Georg. And now he found himself completely obsessed with her. It had snuck up on him, at first she _had_ done nothing but infuriate him. But after she'd yelled at him and he'd shouted back the day he'd returned, everything had changed. Things had still been a little tense but he could recall one evening, after she'd given her daily report on the children, she'd caught sight of a book on his desk and asked about it. It had been a Jane Austen novel that Liesl had left behind and he'd seen the pure, delighted interest shine in her eyes as she told him how much she enjoyed the Englishwoman's novels.

He had laughed, not unkindly but with genuine amusement, and said that he wasn't surprised she liked such silly romantic nonsense. And he could remember every detail of her face; the surprise at hearing him genuinely laugh had obviously amazed her. Her blue eyes had been wide and her lips had been parted in a lopsided smile with her brows slightly raised. Then she had just stared at him for a while before she had blinked and then laughed herself.

It had been the loveliest sound he had ever heard. And from that day he had made sure to make it happen again.

"Georg, there you are!" came the sound of Max's voice as he entered the parlour.

Georg smiled in response and took a seat next to Elsa on the settee, his thoughts still running wild through his head. He tried to pay attention to the conversation, but he was too busy elsewhere.

"He's been _brooding_ in his study," said Elsa with a small laugh. "I know you don't like parties, darling, but they aren't that bad!"

Max was staring slightly too intensely at Georg and it was making him feel uncomfortable. He met his friend's gaze with a raised eyebrow and Max simply gave him a smug look. It made Georg feel as if Max could read his mind, which was a most unpleasant thought.

"It'll be lots of fun," Max trilled, taking his gaze off Georg to smile at Elsa. "No doubt Elsa will invite all of Austria so I'm sure even Georg will manage to find a friend."

Max and Elsa laughed, with Georg joining in half-heartedly. This party was going to be awful. Why he'd agreed was beyond him, well, no that was a lie. He'd have agreed to anything in that moment. He stood up and walked over to a small cabinet and grabbed two cigars, passing one to Max after he lit it. Returning to his seat, he took a long draw and let the heavy smoke fill his lungs as he tried to keep his thoughts on the talk of the party plans Elsa and Max were now discussing, but he couldn't.

Mar-, _no_ , he reprimanded himself, _governess number twelve,_ had been the reason for his hasty approval of the "grand and glorious" party. He'd wanted anything, _anything_ , to get rid of the heavy silence that had fallen after he'd finished singing this evening. It had been as if the two of them were the only people in the room. The way she had looked at him had made him feel something he hadn't felt in a long time – though, he hadn't been able to feel many emotions beside anger or a kind of numbness for the past few years. But it had stirred something within him.

He had been perfectly content with his life until she'd arrived. It had been his plan to marry Elsa before the summer ended, a marriage that certainly was expected and proper. But now he doubted his plans. Which was ridiculous, she was just a girl – and a girl who was going to become a nun. Though the very idea still made him laugh. It was ludicrous.

"Oh, we will have to have dancing! Won't we, darling?" Elsa asked as Georg tuned into the conversation momentarily.

"Mmm," Georg muttered in agreement.

Elsa was the right choice. She was charming, witty, elegant, the perfect hostess and she was gorgeous. Elsa was also the CEO of a large shipping company, a title passed to her through her late husband. Which was how he'd met her as he had shares in a few different companies within Europe and the UK, mostly due to Agathe's parents. And he knew if he married Elsa, he would gain control over most of the companies within Europe – to say the least.

Georg knew she was keen on the idea of marriage and the hole that Agathe had left had been the main reason for his hesitance - he hadn't been ready. And he also had been put off by the fact that he was unable to find a suitable person to look after his children. But this summer he had decided that things weren't going to change and he did enjoy Elsa's company, both socially and privately. It was time for things to progress to their natural conclusion.

Blowing out a cloud of smoke, Georg slipped out of the chair again while the other two chattered, and on the pretence of filling a glass by the drinks cabinet, snuck out of the parlour and out onto the terrace. The air was warm but there was a cool breeze blowing through and he could hear the chirping of insects and the gentle whisper of wind against the trees as he leant against the banister. There were only a few lamps still lit but he could make out the lake with the moonlight shining down on it.

There was another gentle sound, a light melodious song that came floating above and Georg turned around. His eyes roamed the side of the house until he spotted an open window. It was the governess's room.

" _Edelweiss, edelweiss, every morning you greet me…"  
_

Georg instantly felt his heart race and he watched as she came towards the window and leant against the sill. She was staring out towards the lake, still singing the same song he'd sung not too long ago, her voice soft as the breeze blew the sleeves of her blue dress. Her voice faltered and Georg could just make out the slight crease in her brow as she stared out at the water. For one, blissful moment he imagined that she was thinking of him just the way he thought of her. It was wrong, and highly inappropriate. It violated every rule but Georg found himself not caring. If she looked down and asked him to come to her, he would run up those stairs like his life depended on it.

It was sickening. It was maddening. It was tearing him apart. All he wanted was her in his arms. He wanted to make her cheeks flush pink like they did every time he teased her. He wanted to claim that mouth, to be able to render her speechless. And the dress she had worn tonight had made his hands itch with the desire to take it off.

He heard a soft sigh escape her lips and she left the window and Georg watched the curtains close. He blinked, still staring up at the window as he watched the drapes flutter in the soft breeze. The lustful thoughts were still swirling about his mind and he went to take another draw of his cigar but realised it had gone out. He threw it, not caring where it landed, just enjoying the satisfaction of being able to toss something and let out some restrained energy. _  
_

"There you are."

Georg turned his head and saw Elsa was walking towards him. She leant against the stone handrail next to him.

"Sneaking off again," she said, placing a hand on his, as it rested on the top of banister, and squeezing it gently. "I hope Max and I weren't boring you too much with party talk."

Georg gave her a small smile as he returned his gaze back out towards the lake. "No, no, no. All fine. Just needed some fresh air."

He felt Elsa staring at him, "Georg?"

"Hmm?" he replied, still staring out towards the lake.

"Max has gone to bed," Elsa said softly, and Georg finally turned his attention towards her and saw she had a smile tugging at her lips. "Maybe we should retire, too?"

Nodding, he followed her back inside and up the staircase until they came to the top where the wings divided off - the left lead towards the guest's rooms while the right lead towards the family chambers. Elsa took a few steps away from him but then she paused and turned to face him once more. She didn't say anything but simply looked at him and Georg could see the invitation in her eyes.

There was a heavy silence. They hadn't been intimate at all since returning from Vienna; Georg hadn't been able to bear the thought of her being in the bed he had once shared with Agathe. And he also hadn't been keen on the idea of sneaking through his own house to go to her room, especially with the _governess_ in the house. But right now he was desperate to feel anything that made this horrible itch he had underneath his skin go away. He needed to forget about number twelve. To pretend that everything was still on the right course.

So, he took a left.

* * *

 **A/N** Thank you to everyone for the reviews on the first chapter - it was more of an intro than a chapter I guess but still. I hope you all enjoy this one, I know it's short but I'd love to hear from you all so do please R&R :)


	3. Dangerous

**A/N** warning: sexual references in this chapter, just FYI – not a lot though but I thought I should give you a heads up.

* * *

Chapter Three: Dangerous

 _Dangerous  
_ _The way you leave me wanting more  
_ _Dangerous  
_ _That's what I want you for  
_ _Dangerous  
_ _When I am in your arms  
_ _Dangerous  
_ _Know I will come to harm_

* * *

Georg stared at the ceiling in the pitch-black darkness and tried desperately to ignore the clawing guilt eating away at him. His head felt foggy after all the brandy and it was becoming an effort to keep his eyes open, but he was too scared to close them. He could feel the gentle and even breath of Elsa as she lay against his chest; her hair sprawled out in a mass of white blonde curls as she slept.

Sucking in a deep breath, he gently eased her arm, which was thrown over his middle, off of him and slipped out from underneath her. She stirred but didn't wake as he changed back into his clothes and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Well, if one thing was for sure, it was that he was definitely going to hell. He could still feel Elsa against his skin, could still feel the way she had fallen apart beneath him and all he had been able to think about was another woman. A woman who certainly would be utterly appalled if she ever knew the kind of things he wished she'd been doing instead of Elsa.

He had imagined it had been the governess's mouth against his skin, pressing hot kisses down his chest. And it had been her hands that he wished had gripped his shoulders tightly as he thrust into her. If there was one silver lining it was that he was so inebriated that he hadn't been able to speak coherently and so her name had thankfully not spilled from his lips. He leant back against the wall in the dark corridor, rubbed at his temples and tried to focus but his mind was slipping.

Carefully, concentrating hard on putting one foot after another, he made his way towards his own room. After finally reaching the master suite, he hurriedly discarded his clothes once more, needing to rid himself of the cloying smell of Elsa's perfume. Showering did little to help though, his mind was still a jungle of forbidden thoughts and guilty mistakes which he constantly kept tripping on. The sight of his own bed caused a wave of shame to pass over him and he quickly changed into a clean shirt and pair of trousers.

He headed downstairs, nearly falling over his feet as he tried silently to go down the stairs. He pushed through into the library and collapsed into one of the large, plush armchairs that sat in front of a great fireplace. His head was swimming and he was struggling to see straight. The brandy was certainly making itself known; it had been stupid to drink so much and it was all now catching up with him.

Georg was too busy trying to see straight that he didn't hear the door open and someone come in, and so he was completely startled when someone spoke and a hand touched his arm.

"Captain?"

He shot up onto his feet immediately, stumbled and fell down. His hands had flown out to balance himself and he had groped aimlessly at whatever had been near – which happened to be the person who had surprised him.

Georg groaned from his position on the rug, his head hurt and he had managed to whack his arm on the corner of the fireplace and it was ringing in dull pain. But there was someone now lying on top of him, his hand was still gripping their arm.

He opened his eyes and found himself staring at governess number twelve; her face was so close that he could feel her sweet breath on his face. The expression on her face was certainly one of surprise, but there was something else too that Georg, in his current state, couldn't place.

"Are you all right?" she asked hurriedly, trying to push herself off him but he held her arm tightly. "Captain?"

He let go as if he'd been burnt and she rolled off him, his body immediately crying out at the loss of her body pressed so intimately against his own. Gingerly he sat up and glared at her.

"What the hell are you doing?" he drawled, his voice was gruff and he instantly regretted speaking. He sounded awful.

"I saw the light on and I came to see who was in here – last time I found Brigitta had snuck in here and fallen asleep reading 'Beauty and the Beast,'" she said, sitting up on her knees and peering at him curiously. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

Georg attempted to glare at her. "You didn't frighten me, you jus' gave me a shock."

She reached out a hand and touched his forehead, which he instantly recoiled from. Maybe he'd whacked his head and he was dreaming again. He had had plenty of dreams about ravishing her on this very rug. But she was always wearing less, or at least wearing something more alluring than the hideous nightgown and dressing robe she had on right now. And her voice tended to be more breathy and she also happened to say Captain a lot. He blinked owlishly at her.

"Are you sure you are all right, Captain?"

Georg perked up. "Mmm?" He attempted to grin at her. "I'm just fine, Fraulein," he purred.

Her face scrunched up in utter confusion as she tilted her head to the side. Then her expression cleared and she leant in closer towards him. He could do nothing but stare at her as her face came excruciatingly close to his before she pulled away once more.

"You're drunk," she declared.

"You're nightgown is hideous."

Her mouth dropped open and she let out a small laugh. She stared at him another long while before she said, "You're not wearing a tie."

"I'm not wearing a lot of things."

She let out another nervous laugh and hastily got to her feet. Then she reached her hand down and he took it as she helped him upright. The world tilted sideways and he reached out for her again. He was floating on a cloud of fog and everything was suddenly ridiculously wonderful. It was when he felt her push gently on his back that he realised that they had left the library and were walking up the stairs. How had they gotten this far? Maybe she was a witch. He snorted. She wasn't a witch - she was an angel. A lovely, lovely, lovely angel.

"What's so amusing?" he heard her ask as she helped him up the stairs onto the landing.

"You," he said simply.

"Me?" she asked, "What did I do?"

"It's not what you did," he replied in that matter-of-fact tone reserved only for the absolutely sloshed. "It's what you are going to do."

"Mmhmm," she said, "And what am I going to do?"

They had somehow reached his room and she was pushing through the large double doors and into his room. He heard her mutter something under her breath but he was too happy about the sight of his bed to care. There was the feeling of her arm slipping out from where it had been supporting him and he sat down on the bed heavily.

"You're going to be a nun," he said, staring up at her.

"And why is that so funny?" she asked, his brain not registering the irritation in her voice.

"Because you won't make a very good nun," he said. "Just like you said."

She sighed. "It was just a joke, Captain."

"No, it wasn't," he said, shaking his finger at her. "You shouldn't be locked away with some old nuns. You're like a wild animal that needs to be set free. You need to be able to run, feel the sun kiss your skin, see the sky stretch above you."

There was the sound of her muttering something again before she turned and went to leave the room but he reached out and grasped her hand.

"Don't go."

Her eyes locked with his as she gazed at him. It was the same intense look she'd given him while he'd sung tonight. He tried to focus on her face but was she becoming blurred in the low light of his room.

"I'm not an animal," she said after a while, easing her hand out of his grip. "Goodnight, Captain."

Then, he passed out.

* * *

Pain. It was everywhere. His body was cashing in cheques and they were bouncing. His skull throbbed; it felt too big for his head. And one of his arms ached terribly, along with his back. His eyes blinked open and he rolled over in his bed, trying to piece together the reason for his terrible state.

A memory floated to the surface like scum in a pond and he groaned as he rubbed his temples. Brandy. He remembered drinking. Party. That's right, he'd agreed to throw a party for Elsa.

 _Elsa_.

Oh, for God's sake. Oh, please, no. But the memories were coming at him fast now, hurtling towards him in sharp, cold bursts of reality. He remembered following her to her room and hurriedly stripping her of her clothing. He screwed his eyes shut to try and push the memory away but it kept assaulting him. Georg was quite certain he had never been that passionate with Elsa ever before, he'd always made sure to restrain himself. But he certainly hadn't last night. Definitely going straight to hell, he thought. Or, more accurately, 'hell is empty and all the devils are here' – and I'm one of them.

It hadn't mattered that it had been Elsa; his body hadn't cared. It had been aching with a desperate need and Elsa had been there. And his alcoholic soaked mind had been able to forget that Elsa's hair was too long and her eyes not the right shade because with his eyes closed he could pretend it was his children's governess. It was _her_ thighs that he had caressed gently as he removed her stockings. It was her wet heat his fingers had explored. It was her breasts he had worshipped. Not Elsa. Never Elsa. It was always Ma-

"Father!"

There was a hammering at the door and his youngest daughter burst in, the sound echoing like a gunshot in Georg's head as the doors slammed against the wall.

"Father!" she repeated as she reached out to him and shook him with her pudgy hands.

"Yes, darling?" he managed to say as he sat up.

"Are we really going to have a party?" she asked, her eyes wide. "I wanted to check I didn't dream it!"

"Yes, Gretl," he said wearily. "Now, please go get dressed."

He flopped back into the comfort of the pillows as she hurried back out of the room, yelling happily at the top of her lungs for her Fraulein. All he wanted was to stay in bed and pretend that last night hadn't happened. Unfortunately that wasn't an option, and so he showered and shaved to try and make himself feel somewhat human again.

As he headed into the dining room for breakfast, he noticed that both Elsa and Max were absent – which wasn't really a surprise. But he was thankful for it as he wasn't ready to deal with either right now. A moment later, his children were rushing in and hastily taking their seats, closely followed by the governess.

"Good morning, Father!"

Georg nodded and gave them all a smile as he hastily drank a cup of coffee Franz had just given him. Over the rim of his cup, he watched the governess take her seat opposite him. He was careful not to make eye contact, unable to bear looking at her directly, scared she'd be able to read his mind and learn how he'd been thinking of her. He felt a fresh wave of guilt roll through him and he hastily looked down at his food.

"Good morning, Captain," he heard her say. "How are you this morning?"

He looked up at that and saw she was restraining the urge to smile at him. He frowned at her.

"Fine," he growled, dropping his eyes back to his food.

* * *

Several hours later, Georg was feeling decidedly more human and the throbbing headache had finally eased. He was sitting in his study, trying to work, when Max sauntered in.

"You know," said the impresario, "I heard the most amazing story today!"

"Mmm," Georg muttered, his eyes still on his work.

There was the tinkling sound of glass that indicated Max was going through Georg's drinks cabinet and he looked up to glare at his friend.

"Max, you could at least go through the motions of asking first," Georg said, putting his pen down and leaning back in his leather chair.

Max shrugged and continued to fill the glass with the rich amber liquid. He then took the seat across from Georg's desk and fixed him with an impish smile.

"I would have gotten you one, but I think you're probably still regretting the effects of last night," said Max with a grin.

Georg froze.

Max grinned even wider. "Yes, I thought so." He settled himself more comfortable in the chair and continued, "You see, I heard the most interesting story about last night."

"Look, Max, we all know you are the worst chaperone and you are here only for the look of things," Georg began. "What happens between Elsa and I is none of your concern."

Max's grin faltered momentarily in confusion. "What?" He waggled a finger at Georg. "No, no, no. I am not talking about Elsa."

"What are you talking about then?"

"The little governess!" Max declared.

Panic bloomed in Georg's chest. Did he do something? He couldn't remember. All he remembered was Elsa and then going to his room, there was no memory of the governess. At breakfast she had seemed fine, she had smiled at him!

"What about her?" asked Georg.

"Apparently she came across her drunk employer last night," Max said, taking a sip of his drink. "And she was so concerned for his health that she thought it best to tell me."

"I don't remember," Georg muttered.

"She said you probably wouldn't," Max said happily. "She said you could barely stand up and the dear helped you back to your room. I don't know _what_ you would do without her."

She was in my room? Georg tried to sift through his memories but they kept slipping away out of reach. It was like to trying to hold a moonbeam in your hand. But then one bloomed bright and strong. He was on the floor in the library and she was lying on top of him. Her hands were on his chest, her legs tangled with his and he could remember the feel of her breath on his face.

That couldn't be right though. He frowned to himself, trying to remember.

"Don't worry, you didn't do anything," Max said with a wave of his hand.

Georg raised an eyebrow. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

Max sighed and fixed Georg with a pointed look. "Do I have to say it, Georg?"

"Say what?" Georg asked, his voice dangerous.

He didn't like what Max was clearly implying – no matter how true it was. It was too much to bear that someone had noticed, especially someone like Max.

"You're obviously attracted to her," said Max. "I've seen the way you look at that little nun – the Reverend Mother would have her out of here quick smart if she could read your mind, I'm sure."

Inhaling sharply through his nose, Georg used his best 'Captain' voice and spoke carefully, "Max, I do not look at her in anyway except in thanks for what she has done for this family."

"Hmm, I think the 'thanking' you have in mind is a little inappropriate and may involve an extra gift in nine months time."

"She's just the governess, nothing more," Georg said swiftly, not sure if he was trying to convince Max or himself more.

His friend threw his hands up in a conciliatory fashion and vacated the chair as he tossed back the last few remnants of his drink. He opened his mouth to say something but there was a knock at the study door and 'just the governess' walked in.

"Oh, hello, Herr Detweiler," she said, walking up to the desk.

"Evening, Fraulein," Max said with a small bow before sliding his eyes back to Georg. "I was just leaving."

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything?" said the governess, who was looking between the closed door and him.

"Not at all," said Georg, with a forced smile. "Take a seat."

She sat and he listened as she spoke about what her and the children had been up to for the day. It was evident that she was clearly fine, he obviously hadn't done anything untoward – thank God. But the memory of her lying on top of him was still vying for his attention.

There was a lull as she finished talking and stared at him expectantly.

"Thank you," he said finally. "Sounds like the children are all doing well."

"Yes, Captain," she said, giving him a smile. "Though…" she hesitated, and he watched as she twisted her hands. "I wanted to make sure you are all right?"

He grimaced. "Yes, I'm fine." He cleared his expression. "Max tells me I owe you for making sure I wasn't found by Frau Schmidt in the morning."

She let out a small laugh. "Um, yes. You were quite intoxicated and I wanted to make sure you got back to bed all right."

"Why were you awake?" he asked.

Her expression faltered and she dropped her gaze. "Er, I couldn't sleep." She looked back up at him and he noticed her cheeks had reddened slightly. "I was coming back from the kitchen after getting a glass of water and I saw the library light on."

"Ah."

"You didn't hear me come in at first and I, uh, startled you," she went on. "Then you fell and, uh, I thought you might have hit your head and gotten a concussion or something. But then I realised you were just drunk."

"I didn't know you were so experienced with the effects of alcohol, Fraulein?" he drawled, smirking at her.

"My uncle used to drink a lot," she said simply. "I could always smell it. And I could smell it on you." Her face reddened again. "So I helped you to your room and I made sure to let Herr Detweiler know this morning, in case you had hurt yourself."

Georg nodded. Well, it sounded fine to him. Though it didn't explain why he had the memory of her lying on top of him. Maybe that part had been a dream. But it did warm his heart to know that she had made sure he was all right. Though, he still had the nagging suspicion that she wasn't being completely honest with him. But he didn't want to press it right now, he still felt slightly off and he was very much aware of how he'd used her for his own sordid satisfaction.

"Anyway," she said, "I'm glad you're okay, Captain."

She gave him one of her lovely smiles and he felt his fingers twitch with the urge to touch her.

"So, what do you have planned for the children tomorrow?" he asked, trying to steer the conversation back to a safe topic.

"Poetry," she said.

"Poetry?" he repeated.

"Yes," she replied. "Today was history, that was Friedrich's choice, and tomorrow is poetry – Brigitta chose it." She shifted in her chair. "Do you like poetry?"

"All sad people like poetry," he said, giving her a wry smile. "Happy people like songs."

She laughed. "What if you like both?"

"Then you must be both happy and sad."

He watched mesmerised as her face flickered between emotion after emotion. It was only a matter of seconds before she gave her head a little shake and forced a smile on her face. He'd clearly touched a nerve of some kind and though he found himself desperate to ask more, he felt he shouldn't dare. Now was not the time.

"Well, do you have a favourite poem?" she asked.

Inhaling deeply, he reclined into the plush chair and said, "I have a few favourites, though I've always been fond of Percy Bysshe Shelley's 'Love Philosophy.'"

She gave a small nod and he saw a true smile tug at her lips - the sight of them looking utterly divine in the low, warm light of the study made his mind catch fire.

"I thought romance was just silly nonsense to you," the governess said, and he saw her biting down on her lip to stop the smile spreading any further.

Georg raised an eyebrow. "I said that Jane Austen was silly nonsense." He sniffed. "It's such an obvious thing for women to like."

She rolled her eyes.

"Do you know it?" he asked and she shook her head.

Georg pushed his chair back and opened a draw, which he sifted through and pulled out a small worn book. He really had no use for it as he could recall it perfectly, but he wanted her to read it – wanted to hear her voice speak the words.

"Here," he said as he offered the small book to her before sinking back into the chair.

There was the soft rustle of paper as she opened the book and flicked through the pages. He watched as she paused and then turned the book upside down, which made him smile. Written upside down on the title page was a short inscription from his old grandfather, who'd been the one to give him the book of poems.

"'Sometimes you must see things from a different perspective for them to make sense,'" she read out, her eyes met his and she gave him another smile. "How wise."

"My grandfather liked to think himself so," Georg said with a low chuckle as she turned the book the right way up. "Go to page thirty-six."

He watched her as she flicked through the pages and his breath caught at the sight of her pink tongue poking out as she searched for the right page.

"'The fountains mingle with the river and the rivers with the ocean,'' she began, and he let the soft sound of her voice seep into his veins, it was better than any other hangover cure. "'The winds of heaven mix forever with a sweet emotion, nothing in the world is single." She took a breath and gave him a small smile. "'All things by a law divine in one spirit meet and mingle. Why not I with thine?'"

Georg watched as she paused again and was enthralled as she wet her lips before continuing. The soft light made them shine and he swallowed hard, knowing what she was going to read next.

"'See the mountains kiss high heaven and the waves clasp one another. No sister-flower would be forgiven if it disdained its brother. And the sunlight clasps the earth and the moonbeams kiss the sea. What-'"

Georg couldn't help himself and he finished the line for her. "'What is all this sweet work worth if thou kiss not me?'"

* * *

 **A/N** The "all sad people like poetry" is taken from a scene in _Penny Dreadful_

"Hell is empty and all the devils are here" – Shakespeare


	4. Policy of Truth

Chapter Four: Policy of Truth

 _Now you're standing there tongue tied  
_ _You'd better learn your lesson well  
_ _Hide what you have to hide  
_ _And tell what you have to tell_

 _You'll see your problems multiplied  
_ _If you continually decide  
_ _To faithfully pursue  
_ _The policy of truth_

* * *

"' _See the mountains kiss high heaven and the waves clasp one another. No sister-flower would be forgiven if it disdained its brother. And the sunlight clasps the earth and the moonbeams kiss the sea. What-'"_

 _Georg couldn't help himself and he finished the line for her. "'What is all this sweet work worth if thou kiss not me?'"_

There was a heavy silence in which she stared at him with her eyes wide and her lips slightly parted. He cursed himself for interrupting; sure that he'd put far too much emphasis on those words. It had been a simple chance to ask her for something he felt like he'd needed his whole life. But it had been stupid. He could brush it off as a simple quotation but the way she was looking at him was not the look of someone who had just heard some poetry and thought it merely satisfactory. No, she had reacted to it – reacted strongly like she did to everything around her. His governess wore her heart on her sleeve and her emotions shone through her blue eyes.

The tension multiplied and Georg felt his mouth go dry. He swallowed hard and went to open his mouth to speak but the door opened and he watched as the governess shot to her feet, clutching the book to her chest.

"Georg!" Elsa said as she swept into the room and nodded at the governess. "Oh, hello, dear."

"Elsa, what is it?" Georg snapped irritably and then composed himself. "Sorry, how can I help?"

Elsa frowned briefly and he saw her gaze slide back towards the governess who was staring off to the side. "I've just received a call from my mother," she said, returning her gaze back to him. "Apparently my aunt is in town and she wants me to return to Vienna for a few days. I have asked Franz to drive me to the station in the morning."

Georg nodded as he got out of his chair. "Of course, have a wonderful time."

"Thank you, darling, I shall," she replied with a smile before sweeping back out of the room.

The door clicked shut and Georg risked looking back over towards the governess, who was still standing in the same spot by his desk. There was just the sound of the clock ticking before she cleared her throat and faced him.

"Well," she said brightly, "I best get ready for bed."

She gave him a brittle smile and placed the poetry book on his desk before walking towards the door. Internally he was cursing Elsa six ways to Sunday. What would have happened had she not came bursting through his study? The rational part of his mind told him it was probably a good thing while the rest of him was seething at the missed opportunity.

He'd seen the look on the governess's face; she had wanted him to kiss her. If Georg knew one thing it was when a woman wanted to be kissed. And he hadn't been one to let a lady go on wanting.

"Wait," he said and he saw her pause at the door before she turned to face him.

"Was there something you wanted, Captain?" she asked.

 _Oh, God, yes. You._ But this was madness. He couldn't just take her into his arms and kiss her senseless. Well, he could but it wouldn't be a good idea. She'd probably hit him. She'd definitely leave. But worst of all, she might not – she might respond and then there where would he be?

"Here," he said, picking up the book of his desk and walking over to her. "You can borrow it if you like – for tomorrow's lesson. Or however long you want."

"Oh," she said, looking down at the extended book. "Thank you. I'll keep it safe, I promise." She smiled. "Goodnight, Captain."

* * *

Over the next few days Georg made an effort to keep himself busy. He made several calls, both locally and overseas, talking with investors and other business partners as he worked. It was during a call to his bank one afternoon that his little busy bubble of work was shattered.

"I have to say, Georg," said Alec Gruber, his financial advisor, "I was more than surprised to get an invitation to your villa for a party next week!"

Georg held tightly onto the receiver. "Hmm, yes, well it has been a while."

There was a merry laugh from the other end of the line as Alec chuckled. "My wife tells me it's all thanks to that lovely Baroness Schraeder. I am looking forward to meeting her properly."

"I'm sure she feels the same way, Alec," Georg said hurriedly. "Now, with these new plans I will be needing-"

"Are we to be expecting an announcement at this party Georg?"

Georg paused. "Announcement?" He was not keen on the direction of this conversation. Alec Gruber was his banker not his mother. He had no wish to discuss party details or any other such nonsense. And he certainly didn't want to discuss Elsa.

"Yes!" exclaimed Alec. "You've been seeing this woman for some time now. She's certainly been a great asset in terms of business but I was thinking this party was to celebrate something more pleasurable?"

Georg went to open his mouth to correct his friend but the man kept on talking.

"I mean, Georg, you haven't thrown a party since dear Agathe left us and all of a sudden this lovely lady is here in Salzburg and you are also throwing a party?" The man laughed happily again, certain he'd discovered Georg non-existent secret. "You can't keep anything from me, my friend!"

Rolling his eyes, Georg readjusted his grip on the telephone and idly pushed a few papers around on his desk.

"Alec," he said. "There is no announcement planned for this party. Elsa just wished to meet my friends and a party sounded like a wonderful idea." He grimaced to himself at the blatant lie. "Like I said, things are looking a little bleak so this will be something to lift our spirits."

The man agreed, though Georg could hear from his tone of voice that he didn't believe him one bit. He'd thought he couldn't possibly be less thrilled about this party than before but he was wrong. If Alec Gruber suspected this party was to announce an engagement, than he certainly wouldn't be the only one. Especially since Frau Gruber, whilst a lovely lady, was the biggest gossip.

After the call had ended, he made another to Elsa. It was just a polite call to see how she was going. He listened lazily, responding when needed as he got out of his chair and idly looked through the books lining the wall behind his desk. He had made a point of not calling often, feigning that he wanted her to enjoy her time with her mother and aunt. He also made sure to mention how terribly busy he was.

But he wasn't really that busy, he'd deliberately taken on a large workload only to keep himself occupied. The children had started to complain, saying that they missed having him join in on some of their games or pop into lessons. Georg just hadn't been able to bear being in the same room as the governess. It was hard enough seeing her a meal times.

In the morning after she'd read his poetry book, he'd casually told her he didn't need to see her until the end of the week for a report on the children. Lying through his teeth he said he was behind on a lot of work and had too much to catch up on. That was when he'd rushed into his study, made several calls and telegrams to make sure that this statement was hurriedly made true.

Elsa was still talking, telling him all about the wonderful new dress she'd bought for the party. When she dropped her voice and huskily breathed that she missed him, he cringed. Pretending that he had to cut the call due to one of the children he hung up and silently begged for a hole to open up in the plush carpet and swallow him.

Unfortunately the universe didn't acquiesce to his simple request and instead decided to torment him further.

"Captain?"

Georg spun around and saw the governess hovering at the threshold of his study. She had a huge pile of books in her arms so he couldn't see her face until she peered around the side of the small tower.

"Yes, Fraulein?"

She opened her mouth, shut it and then opened it again. "I overheard you on the phone saying Gretl was in here…" She looked around the room. "But she isn't."

Georg cleared his throat awkwardly and placed the phone down on the desk carefully.

"Unpleasant phone call?" she asked, a small smile tugging at her lips as she rearranged her grip on the books.

"Something like that," he replied. He gestured to the books in her arm. "How was the lesson with the children?"

She stepped into the room then, her face breaking out into a genuine smile. "Oh, it was good. Though, your sons share the same view of Jane Austen as you do." She laughed. "Liesl loved it though."

He chuckled himself; he could so easily picture his sons bored faces as she read them a Jane Austen novel.

There was a lull as they both stood, their laughter slowly dying away to be replaced by a tension filled silence. Georg felt like all his nerves were on high alert. It had happened a few times, the awkward silences. As if they both suddenly realised they were employer and employee and probably shouldn't be discussing anything other than business. And certainly should not be enjoying each others company as much as they did.

When he had first become obsessed with the woman in front of him, he had passed it off as merely one-sided and was quite sure that she was unaware of how he felt. She had never seemed uncomfortable in his presence. She had never shied from him. But now she seemed different, there was something about her that wasn't the same as before. It was as if she had suddenly been told a great secret and was struggling to keep it to herself. It had been like this ever since the night of the puppet show, he realised. He wanted so badly to know what was going through that mind of hers.

There was a bang from upstairs as a door flew open and she jumped, the pile of books in her arms tumbling to the ground with a clatter. Rushing over to help her, Georg bent down with her and started to pick up the fallen books. They both reached for the last one, his hand sliding over hers. The touch was electric and he heard her small intake of breath as her eyes shot up to meet his. Ever so slowly, he let his hand drag slowly off hers, the pads of his fingers gently grazing her knuckles and down her fingers as he lifted his hand away. The skin of her hand had been incredibly soft and it had made his body ache with a need to discover if the rest of her was just as lovely.

All he would have to do is reach out, she was so close that he could smell the fragrance of her soap. He could hear her breathing. The temptation was overwhelming. It was impossible to think properly with her so close, especially with her blue eyes staring at him with wonder. He wasn't aware he'd dropped the books he'd picked up until he heard the muffled thump of them falling back onto the plush carpet.

"Captain, are you all right?"

Her words seemed to snap through whatever spell he'd been under. He blinked a few times and hurriedly picked up the fallen books as he shook his head, trying to dislodge the fuzz of lust that'd overcome him. All he had been able to see and smell was her and he had been about to do something completely stupid.

"Yes," he said as he stood with her. "I'm fine, just… fine."

She looked at him with concern. "Are you sure you've recovered from your fall the other night?"

"I thought so but maybe not," he said slowly, happy to use any excuse at all to makeup for his strange behaviour.

"You did fall pretty hard," she went on as they started to walk out of his study and head towards the library.

"I don't really remember much from that night," he admitted. He had hated that she'd seen him in such a state, it was so embarrassing.

They walked through into the library and deposited the books onto a large circular table that was surrounded by a few chairs. The awkward tension had disappeared again but Georg was still acutely aware of her. She brushed passed him, her arm briefly coming into contact with his own. He felt like her skin had burned him through the layers of his jacket and shirt. Like a lost puppy, he followed her as she walked down an aisle, watching as she dragged her hand along the spines as she searched for some new books. They came towards the end of the aisle where the large fireplace was; the same spot he'd been in those few nights ago.

She paused and turned her head to face him. "Like I said, Captain, you didn't do anything bad so you shouldn't be embarrassed." She gave an awkward laugh. "I was worried I'd hurt you to be honest!"

Georg's brow furrowed as he leant against the bookshelf, crossing his arms as he did. "Why?"

She gave another awkward laugh and said, "Well, I startled you when you were in here." She gestured to the plush armchairs by the fire. "You were sitting in one of the chairs and you didn't hear me when I first came in. I touched you on the arm to get your attention and you jumped up and lost your balance." She turned her eyes back to him. "You grabbed me to try and not fall, and I kind of fell onto you."

She looked at him briefly as she bit down on her lower lip.

"I was so embarrassed. I thought I'd winded you!" she said.

Georg just stared at her. So, he hadn't imagined it; she _had_ been lying on top of him. He could remember the look on her face too. She'd been surprised, that was for sure, but she'd also had the same look on her face she'd had when he'd recited the last line of the poem. It occurred to him that she probably didn't even realise how much her face gave away. Was she even aware of her reaction towards him? Possibly not. She wasn't completely naïve but she had such an innocent charm about her.

"You did no harm, Fraulein, of that I am sure," he said as his thoughts continued to run wild.

She gave him another smile and continued sifting through the shelves, occasionally plucking out a few books here and there and placing them on the nearby table. He saw one large tome she pulled out was a book on fairy tales, the worn covered depicted a princess kissing a frog. It must have been either Gretl or Marta that had requested such stories, Georg summarised.

"Fairy tales, Fraulein?" he asked as she flicked through the pages.

She looked up at him and scrunched her nose in an effort not to smirk at him. "Yes, Captain. Is there a problem?"

"Of course not," he replied smoothly. "However, I do hope you aren't filling my daughters head with nonsense, such as kisses being capable of waking sleeping princesses and turning frogs into handsome princes."

She laughed, the sound bouncing happily around the room. Georg practically purred, proud that he'd managed to elicit such a reaction from her.

"They know they're just stories, Captain," she said. "I doubt you have to worry about them sneaking off to go kiss some frogs. I told them it doesn't work."

He gave a low chuckle at that. "O-ho, give it a go did you?"

Her face flushed red and she shook her head. "No-o."

Georg nodded sagely. "Ah, you were off kissing sleeping boys instead then?"

The blush deepened and she broke eye contact. Then she took a deep breath and eyed him again, sticking her chin out defiantly.

"Captain," she said. "Remember, I am a postulant at Nonnberg Abbey. Kissing isn't an approved activity." She let out a small laugh. "Unless it's the floor."

"Yes, but it's not like you were born there," Georg said dryly, pushing himself off the bookshelf. "You read all these books about romantic nonsense, surely you've kissed a boy or two."

"It's not nonsense, Captain," she said, and he could hear the irritation starting to seep into her voice. She was getting ready to argue with him, he could tell. "Just because I like reading romance doesn't mean I'm off kissing everyone I see."

She walked over to the table near the fireplace and let the book drop on the table with a heavy thump.

"I apologise," Georg said. "So, have you read any more of that book I lent you?"

"Yes, I have," she said slowly. "I'm enjoying it immensely. I just love how much the words can make you feel, you know?" Her voice started to pick up speed and her eyes started to sparkle as she became more animated. "Even if the poem is sad, the words can just be so beautiful that it moves you. Or even if the poem is simple. Sometimes the simplest of things can move you the most." She looked back over at the fairy tales. "That's why I enjoy fairy tales, they're simple but they usually have a moral or are just enjoyable for the fancy that they tell."

He nodded as she spoke, enjoying how comfortable she seemed to be as she talked. He'd always been more of a listener. It was part of his personality. And also why he'd probably gotten along so well with his grandfather; he had loved to tell stories and Georg had loved to listen to them. But somewhere along the way he'd forgotten about stories; hadn't cared for fairy tales anymore. What's the point of them? That's what he'd asked himself when Agathe had died. Because they certainly didn't come true. And if they did, they never lasted.

"Besides, Captain, a children's story that can only be enjoyed by children is not a good children's story in the slightest," she said, giving him another radiant smile. "I'm reading the 'Wizard of Oz' to the children at the moment and I believe it has some very valid lessons in it."

"I don't think I know that one," he said, leaving his troubled thoughts behind.

"You should come join us then," she said. "The children would love that."

She scooped up the books off the table and started to exit the library. He took a few out of her arms and she gave him a grateful smile as they walked out and headed towards the schoolroom. They walked in a comfortable silence and Georg felt certain that he could happily spend forever with the woman walking next to him. And then immediately he remembered that he was still right; fairy tales didn't come true. She couldn't be his. And it was foolish to delude himself any further. It would result in nothing but problems if he kept indulging himself in this ridiculous fantasy.

* * *

 **A/N** "A children's story that can only be enjoyed by children is not a good children's story in the slightest." – C.S Lewis

This is a quote that I cannot agree with more. I'm a huge lover of classic children's stories (just in case you haven't noticed all ready) and I love these stories possibly even more than I did as a child.

Thank you to everyone that has reviewed and followed this story by the way! Your comments mean so much to me, it's great to hear from everyone. Not much happening in this chapter as it's a filler but do let me know what you think.


	5. Waiting for the Night

Chapter Five: Waiting for the Night

 _I'm waiting for the night to fall  
_ _When everything is bearable  
_ _And there in the still  
_ _All that you feel is tranquillity_

 _There is a star in the sky  
_ _Guiding my way with its light  
_ _And in the glow of the moon  
_ _Know my deliverance will come soon_

* * *

Heat. That was all he could feel. Peaches. That was all he could taste. Roses. That was all he could smell. Sunshine. That was all he could see. Laughter. That was all he could hear.

It was summer. And it was all _her_.

Georg rolled over in his bed, flinging the covers back as he moved in the stifling heat of his room. He had tried so hard the last few days to keep his feelings, and his hormones, in check. But it hadn't been working. Denying them and pushing them away just seemed to make everything worse. It made all the feelings that much sharper, that much more vibrant when he let his guard down. And so this meant when he slept, the tendrils of these thoughts snaked there way out of the dark recesses of his mind and started to wreck their delicious havoc within his dreams.

The dreams had become too real, in a way. They always started out innocently enough. This one had been fine, relatively mundane for a dream. All he had been doing was working in his study, plans and contracts covering the top of the desk in a sea of paper. Then _she_ had come in. Governess number twelve. And she'd been wearing that damn dress. All she had done was speak to him, something about Gretl needing a new saddle so she could ride her giant cat – which really should have alerted to Georg to the reality of the situation, or really the lack of reality. He had told her no and so she had then casually walked up to the side of his desk, seated herself on the edge of the dark wood and begun to swing her legs idly while she argued away. In his dream he had been irritated by such a complete disregard for etiquette and had immediately stood and yelled at her to get off his desk. Then, like some evil-minded feline, she'd pushed an inkwell off the desk.

Georg could remember watching the deep emerald ink spill onto the rich carpet, some of it splashing onto her legs and his shoes. His fists had been balled in anger and he had been ready to yell at her when she had laughed. Her blue eyes had sparkled and she'd covered her mouth with her hand to try and muffle the tinkling bell of a giggle that had escaped her lips. And that had been it, really. The next thing to land on the floor had been the sea of papers he'd been working on, closely followed by both their clothing.

It had felt so real. His body could remember the feel of her underneath him as she writhed and moaned. The feel of her breath on his face as she clung to him had been amazing. Georg's mind was now reeling again as the remnants of his dream flashed like a film across his mind's eye. All of his senses were consumed by the thought of this woman. For days, _weeks_ , he had been telling himself he needed to forget about her - to move on. Because this _was_ ridiculous. He had told himself he was living in a fantasy world and all of this was just going to hurt both himself and the people around him.

However, it was one thing to give yourself good advice and another thing completely to actually listen to it and actively follow it. He had even tried looking himself hard in the mirror and commanding himself to stop acting like a teenager. All that had done was make him feel stupid and realise he had managed to start greying – and he was pretty sure his hairline was receding.

With a deep sigh Georg sat up in his bed, flicked on the bedside lamp and cast a glance at the clock. It was reaching midnight and he could hear the gentle sound of insects outside his balcony door. He shrugged into his robe and threw the balcony doors open, stepping outside onto the small terrace. The view that the master bedroom had was certainly a magnificent one during the day when you could see the towering mountains with their snow-capped peaks. During the darkness of night there was only enough moonlight to see the slow flow of the lake but it was so peaceful, so relaxing and inviting in the sleepy darkness of the summer. Without another thought he was hastily shoving his legs into a pair of trousers and buttoning up a white shirt as he slipped on his shoes before he headed downstairs and unlocked the doors that led outside.

There was a soft breeze and he closed his eyes briefly as he inhaled the warm air. As he walked along the path that followed the lake he rolled his sleeves up and watched the water drifting smoothly. It was incredibly soothing out here in the summer night with the chirping insects and gentle hum of the lake passing by. As he rounded the corner, he saw the glass gazebo. It was shimmering and reflecting in the moonlight. As he moved through the grass he saw a figure seated on the stone bench next to it.

It was the governess.

She had her back to him and he could tell she was wearing her awful dressing robe. Her golden hair was glowing in the moonlight and he was transfixed for a moment at the sight before him. Surely she wasn't really here? Maybe he was still in bed and he was dreaming again. He dismissed the thought; he knew at least his subconscious clothed her in less bulky apparel – that is, when it deigned to give her any clothing at all. He knew he shouldn't be out here with his children's governess in the middle of the night. But before Georg could even think about making a hasty retreat, his traitorous feet were bringing him closer as his mouth opened.

"Fraulein…?" he called out in a low voice.

The woman jumped to her feet and spun around to face him as he approached. There wasn't much light out here by the gazebo but he could practically _feel_ her blush as she tightened her hideous robe around herself.

"Captain!" she said. "Hello." She gave him a lopsided smile and readjusted her grip on the fabric of her dressing gown.

"Hello," he replied slowly as his brow creased. "How did you get out here?" He noticed she didn't have any shoes on and her toes were curled into the grass. As his gaze slid back up he realised her whole body seemed tense as she held the robe closed tightly. "The doors are all locked – well, they were when I came out here. And I would have seen you if you passed me."

She stared at him for a moment before she said, "My window."

"Your window?"

"Yes," she said with a nod. "I climbed down the trellis outside my window."

"Why?" Georg asked.

"I couldn't sleep and I could smell the summer air," she said in a rush. "The moon looked so lovely shining over the lake and I just had to come out here and be a part of it." She paused a moment to take a breath and added more calmly. "You probably think I am being silly."

He chuckled and shook his head. "For once, Fraulein, I don't think you're being silly. I actually came out here for the same reason."

"Oh," she said with a smile and Georg saw some of the tension she'd been strung up with leave her body. "You did?"

"Yes," he replied and took a seat on the bench. "I couldn't sleep either and well, it's a lovely night." He gestured to the space next to him. "Please, do sit back down."

"It is," she said, sitting down next to him after a moment's hesitation. She turned to look at him and added with a small laugh, "I've actually come out here a few times. It's peaceful."

With his dream still fresh in his mind Georg carefully turned his attention back to the lake. It was too painful – too tempting - looking at her face with her so close.

"You have?" he asked, trying to keep his voice cool and calm. "Always climbing down from your window?" _Like some rebellious Juliet_ , he added to himself. God, if he stood at her window and called her name would she come down for him?

She let out a nervous giggle as she gripped the edge of the bench with both hands. "Yes, I, er, learnt that from one your children." She kicked her feet up into the air briefly and Georg's attention was distracted by the silvery moonlight illuminating her legs.

She wasn't wearing the hideous tent of a nightgown he'd seen her in previously. As she had moved, the dressing robe she'd been wearing had fallen to her sides and opened to reveal a much shorter dress. It was no silk and lace creation like Elsa wore, it looked like cotton, but it made Georg's throat dry and he swallowed hard.

Even though he had seen her legs plenty of times there was something more intimate, more arousing, about seeing them while she wore nightclothes. Maybe it was because it was bare skin, there were no stockings covering her long legs right now. Or maybe it was because they were clothes for sleeping in. And usually the only person that would see such clothing would be the person sharing the other side of the bed.

Georg had completely forgotten what she had just said. The whizzing neurons in his brain were too busy trying to capture every detail of her exposed skin in the hazy light to focus on the conversation.

"Sorry," Georg heard her say.

Tearing his eyes away from her legs, he looked into her face and saw her smiling awkwardly at him.

"Oh, ah," he fumbled for a moment before regaining his composure as he clasped his hands together in his lap to stop himself from fidgeting – or reaching out for her. "Nothing to apologise for, Fraulein."

"You're not angry I've been climbing out of my window?" she asked.

"Fraulein, I am not angry," he said calmly. He raised an eyebrow and added, "Though, I would suggest a door next time, I-we wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

She nodded and then looked out towards the lake.

After a few moments of peaceful silence she turned her head back to him and asked, "So, why couldn't you sleep?"

Momentarily caught of guard, Georg clicked his fingers together before he stilled his hands once more. "Ah… an unsettling dream."

"I wouldn't think a naval hero like you would be scared of a dream," she said teasingly.

"It wasn't scary," he said. "Just unsettling."

"Oh."

There was another silence, less peaceful than before.

"How about yourself?" he asked.

She didn't answer for a while, instead choosing to drop her head and stare at the ground as she kicked her feet again through the grass.

"I…I had a dream too," she said in barely more than a whisper.

"Do you wish to talk about it?"

"No," was her hasty reply.

Georg swallowed and tapped his fingers on his knee as he idly cast around his head for something, _anything_ , to say.

"What do you do when the children have a bad dream?" he asked.

"Sing about my favourite things."

"Why don't you do that then?" he said.

"I'm not a child," she said.

 _I am very much aware_ , a voice whispered in his head. But he kept quiet and elected to nod silently.

"Did you always want to be a sea captain?" she asked.

Puzzled at the change of topic, Georg frowned and looked at her again.

"Yes, I suppose so."

"You never wondered if you should do something else?" she asked and Georg saw her fingers were gripping and releasing the stone edge of the bench as she spoke. "Like becoming a pilot? Flying high in the sky - the opposite of a sea captain."

"No," he said slowly.

"Oh."

Georg felt the whisper of a breeze on his cheek as his thoughts ran wild. Was she speaking of herself? Was she questioning her vocation? It was what it sounded like and part of him purred at the thought of her never setting foot in that abbey again. But he didn't want to assume and upset her. Over the past few days bits and pieces of the night of the puppet show had come back to him and he had remembered her helping him to his room. He had remembered telling her she didn't belong in the abbey. And now that he had recalled it, he would never forget her reaction when he had compared her to a wild animal.

And he had also remembered her face when he had asked – no, _begged_ her not to leave him. She was killing him in the most painfully exquisite way possible.

"Do you wish to return to the abbey?" he asked softly.

"Yes," she said. "And… and no."

Georg felt his eyebrows join his slowly receding, grey hairline. Tilting his head to look at her he saw she was staring at her hands, which were now in her lap. That admission would have been hard for her, he knew, no matter how passive it may have been. The urge to pull her into his arms and soothe her troubles away was consuming his very being but years of service came to his aid as he held tightly onto his self-control.

"There is nothing wrong with being uncertain, Fraulein," he said. "I'm sure it happens to many people." She didn't say anything and so he continued. "It is a important and life changing commitment. Not something to be hastily decided. If I decided I didn't want to be a sea captain any longer, while my family may have complained, it wouldn't have really mattered. But the religious life isn't something to be taken lightly."

"I know."

While every fibre of his Georg's being didn't want her to go back to the abbey, didn't want her to throw her life away, he couldn't find it within himself to tell her not to do it. He'd been doing that for weeks. Always questioning her vocation, teasing her about, calling her up on it when she did something he knew the Sisters of Nonnberg Abbey would disapprove of. But now, when she was actually voicing her own doubt, he couldn't do it. He did not want her to leave but he could not stop her from leading her life the way she wanted to.

They sat in silence, neither moving as the summer breeze ghosted by. Georg had no idea what to say to her, he just wanted her to smile again.

"Captain?" she said quietly.

"Yes?" he replied, letting his eyes leave the lake to look at her.

"Thank you," she said, her eyes round and bright in the night.

"What for?"

"For not making fun of me," she said. "Or mocking me." She sighed; it was a sad sound - one of resigned defeat. "I know everyone thinks I will make a terrible nun but it's what I've always wanted. At least, I thought it was…" She trailed off and turned her head away from him.

There was the insistent pounding of Georg's heart in his chest as he stared at the back of her head.

"The Mother Abbess always says that when the Lord closes a door, somewhere He opens a window," she went on quietly. "But I don't know if God's given me a window and I'm just staring out of it because I'm afraid to open it." For a moment Georg wondered if she was going to cry. He wasn't very good at dealing with weeping women. The best he was usually able to offer was an awkward pat on the shoulder. But when she turned her head back to look at him, her eyes were dry. "Sorry, Captain. I'm sure you didn't come out here to listen to me blather on."

She gave him a small smile that he returned.

"It's quite all right, Fraulein," he said. "I feel quite honoured that you feel comfortable enough to talk to me. I assumed you just thought I was an arrogant aristocrat." He grinned at her and was delighted when she gave him a lovely smile in return.

"Oh, I do," she said and laughed as he huffed in response. "But that doesn't mean I don't think you're a good man, Captain. You, and your children – the whole house, have been awfully kind to me this summer. I know I wasn't what you were expecting – to be honest, I think they sent me here just so I wasn't there." She let out a small laugh. "I think Sister Berthe was quite happy to see the back of my head."

Georg gave a low chuckle. "Thank you, Fraulein." Inhaling a deep breath, he stood up and extended a hand out towards her. "Now, I think it best I make sure you get back in bed." His body vibrated at his own words and hummed even further when she took his hand and stood up.

It wasn't until they'd reached the door back inside did Georg realise she hadn't let go of his hand the whole time they had walked back. At this thought, he felt it slip from his grip as she passed through the door. And once inside, the door locked behind him, Georg was able to see her properly in the light of the house.

Her golden hair was a mussed mess and she was once again holding the dressing around her tightly, her bare feet peaking out at the bottom. They continued in silence until they reached the end of the hallway upstairs where the master bedroom led one way and the nursery led the other.

Pausing, Georg smiled at her. "Goodnight, Fraulein."

"Goodnight, Captain," she said with a small nod before she turned and headed down to her room.

He watched her go until she was out of sight, the distant click of a door shutting softly the only sound in the middle of the night. Heaving a sigh, Georg walked with heavy feet back to his own room. Once inside, he discarded his clothes and lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. This was never going to go away, he knew. These feelings toward the governess were not going to be pushed aside and ignored. He had wanted so desperately to take her hand back and bring her back here with him.

The robe and nightgown would have been slowly peeled from her body. He would have savoured every moment of uncovering her bare skin. His mouth would have learnt every secret place that ached to be touched. And he would have made sure she did ache, ache with the same burning need that seemed to be constantly fuelling him all day and night.

For the hundredth, possibly millionth, time he told himself he would never and could never have her. She was just like summer: vibrant, warm, lush and most of all: fleeting.

* * *

 **A/N** Thanks to everyone that has reviewed, favourite and followed. Reviews are appreciated so much – no matter how long or short they are! Hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas and has a most joyous New Year.

On a sad note, was heartbroken to hear about the passing of Heather Menzies (Louisa) this morning. Lots of love goes out to her family.

"(…) I don't know if God's given me a window and I'm just staring out of it because I'm afraid to open it." – taken from _Call the Midwife._


	6. Sea of Sin

Chapter Six: Sea of Sin

 _Sea of sin  
_ _Through thick and thin  
_ _For better or worse  
_ _My mind's in need  
_ _So my body feeds  
_ _And it quenches my thirst_

 _You look cheaper and cheaper  
_ _As we sink deeper and deeper  
_ _Sea of sin  
_ _Know where you've been  
_ _'Cause I've been there_

 _Here under God's sky  
_ _His watchful eye  
_ _And all of the lies  
_ _My consolation prize_

* * *

The next morning Georg had been hyper aware of the governess and had done his best to treat with her a sort of cool indifference. After last night it was clear that things were getting dangerously out of hand. He had replayed the conversation with her out by the gazebo over and over in his head. And the feel of her hand in his had seared itself into his memory forever.

When she gave him an awkwardly shy smile at breakfast he had simply nodded dispassionately in response and hid behind his morning paper. He had seen the look of hurt cross her face at his dismissal, which had stabbed at his heart. But he had had to do it. There had been too many close encounters. Too many times when he'd been dangerously close to acting on his thoughts. And lately there had been times when he was sure he'd seen the same look in her eyes that he knew was in his own. The moments had been fleeting but Georg knew what he had seen the evening he'd given her his book of poetry and he'd read the last line to her. There had been that look on her face, the same look she'd had when he'd sung Edelweiss - it was a look of longing. That look tortured him. But he could do nothing. She was promised to God and he could not have her.

A lot of men Georg knew would have happily enticed her to their bed. Not caring for anything other than sating the heady tug of lust. They wouldn't care at all that she was returning to the abbey, that she wanted to serve God. He was disgustedly certain that would have added to the appeal. Georg was certainly a lot of things but he was not that kind of man. Soon she'd be back at the abbey and she'd probably forget all about him. Instantly a voice reminded him that she had said she wasn't sure about her vocation but he pushed it away, not wanting to be distracted.

Elsa had returned from Vienna this morning and he was anxious to talk with her. While Georg knew he could not have the woman he wanted, he knew at least that there was no way he could continue on with Elsa. At first, he had thought to wait until after the party but then he had remembered Alec Gruber's words. People would be expecting his engagement to Elsa, and most likely, so was the woman herself. But that was not going to happen now. No matter how desperate Georg felt, he could not marry Elsa. He could not do to her what he done in a drunken stupor of both alcohol and lust those nights ago.

It would be hard. There had always been the unspoken agreement of marriage – hell, it was why he had brought Elsa here. But he just couldn't do it. As he paced in his study, waiting for Elsa to return from changing from her journey back, he tried to organise his thoughts. He had no idea what exactly he was going to say to her. He didn't want to hurt her, but he had to be honest – well, to an extent. The party was to be held tomorrow night and he needed this conversation out of the way as soon as possible.

There was a knock on the door before it opened and Elsa walked in, a smile spreading across her face as she entered.

"Good morning, Elsa," he said.

"Good morning, darling," she said. "You wanted to speak with me?"

"Yes. It's about the party."

"The party?" she said, a brow rising in question. "What about it?" Her furrow of confusion disappeared into a sly smile as she added, "I know I told you about my new dress, darling, but I don't think I mentioned what I got to go under it."

Before he could utter another word, she made her way towards him and slid her hands up his chest and onto his shoulders. There was the overpowering scent of her perfume accompanied by the sharp smell that was her hair lacquer. It made him recoil instantly.

"Elsa, please," Georg said, removing her hands from his shoulders.

Her perfectly defined brows formed into a frown. "Darling?" She took a step back from him and sighed. "What is the matter? Is something wrong?"

"Yes, something is wrong and I intend to make it right," he said. "Elsa, I think we should cancel the party."

"Pardon?" she said. "Why?"

"Elsa…" he began, trying to think on how to phrase his words. "I think it has been assumed by many guests that this party is to announce our engagement to be married." He took a careful breath. "But that is something I am sorry to say will not be happening."

She stared at him momentarily before she spoke.

"Georg," she said slowly, "people just talk and I was not expecting a proposal tomorrow." She smiled at him and touched a hand to his arm. "I haven't even met your friends yet!"

Closing his eyes briefly, Georg tried to keep a hold of himself. He needed her to understand he meant there would be no proposal _ever_. Not just tomorrow night. It was obviously not going to be as easy as he had hoped – which in itself had been a ridiculous hope, but that was the nature of hope.

"What I mean is that there will be no engagement between us-" he paused and took a steadying breath. "- at all."

Her eyes were boring into his and Georg shifted underneath the evident hurt he could see in them. His throat had gone dry and his insides were churning with a horrible mixture of nervous anticipation and guilt at the look on her face.

"What happened?" Elsa asked finally. "What happened to those things you said to me - about being your saviour? I thought I meant something to you." She shook her head as she held his gaze. "What happened to that man?"

It had been only mere weeks since he had said those things to her. Georg had been reluctant then to discuss marriage. But that had been because she hadn't met his children yet and he'd been certain they would have scared her off. Had it really only been a month ago? It felt like years had passed since then.

"That man wasn't me, Elsa," he said. "He never was. It was a lie. I meant those things I said to you, I truly did. And I do care for you, despite my actions, but I cannot give you what you want."

There was a tense silence where they both stood looking at each other. The back of Georg's neck prickled and the tie around his neck felt increasingly tighter. Elsa just stared at him, her face one of disbelief. She walked over to his desk and tapped her nails a few times on the top of the wood, the sound loud in the heavy silence of the room.

"I thought we had an agreement, Georg," she said as her eyes held him, her nails tapping relentlessly on the desk.

"A business agreement, yes," he said.

Elsa sighed and tilted her head to the side as she looked at him for a long while before she spoke. "Georg, I am not cancelling this party. It is far too late for that. I suspect it's far too late for a lot of things."

"Elsa, I truly am sorry," he said, meaning every word. "Things have changed and I had no intention of hurting you. If you wish to sever business ties as well I would not hold it against you."

There was a moment where a few emotions flickered across her flawless features. It happened in a second, if Georg had blinked he would have missed them entirely for her face was a now a mask of control.

"I don't know what has gotten into you lately, darling, but whatever nonsense you are talking right now is just that: nonsense," Elsa said, her words sharp as she stopped tapping her nails on the desk. "We will have this party and then after we can discuss this when you are being more reasonable." She took a steadying breath and added, "I am sure its just nerves. You haven't thrown a party in so long."

"It's not nerves, Elsa," he said, determined for her to understand. "I know what I am saying. And I am sorry but when two people speak of marriage-"

"Stop," Elsa said, holding up a hand. "I have no desire to hear anymore, Georg. We can discuss this after the party." And with that she swept out of the study, the door gently clicking shut behind her.

Georg stared at the closed door for a few minutes and let out the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. He felt shaken. Lost at sea. Frozen. He had no desire to attend the damn party. But he didn't have a choice – Elsa hadn't let him have a choice. But how could he blame her? This whole mess was his fault. He knew Elsa could be stubborn and surely after the party she'd be more inclined to listen to reason. As he was aware that image meant a lot to her and how would it look if he cancelled the party? But he needed her to understand that they were over. He couldn't lie to her any longer, couldn't pretend the things that set his body on fire were because of her.

With a heavy sigh, he moved over to his desk and sunk into the worn leather of his chair. Tomorrow evening needed to come and go as quickly as possible before Georg decided that jumping on the next train out of Salzburg was a good idea.

* * *

Later that evening as Georg sat in the library slowly nursing a brandy he attempted to get a grip on the thoughts running wild in his head. After Elsa had left, he'd practically locked himself in his study and thrown himself into his work for the remainder of the morning. There had been a tense lunch with Max and Elsa on the terrace before the children had interrupted and roped him into a game of hide-n-seek. He had been grateful for an excuse to leave as Max had been giving him questioning looks but his happiness had been short lived when he began playing with the children, trying to help them find their Fraulein. Georg hadn't wanted to find her and so he had aimlessly walked around the grounds pretending to look.

And because the universe was trying to torture him, he, of course, found her. She'd been up high in one of the large oak trees near the lake. It had been the brief glimpse of cream skin he'd seen through the green leaves that had caught his attention. When he'd looked closer, he'd seen her ankle dangling from the branches above, her shoe about to fall off of her foot. He'd abruptly turned around, headed back to the children and had hastily given them clues so they could find her before he excused himself back to his study.

Yes, it had been the right thing to do, ending things with Elsa - just catching a glimpse of the governess made the delicious curl of desire race through his veins. It had _definitely_ had been the right thing to do. Even though it was clear Elsa was refusing to discuss things properly until the party was over, he'd at least spoken to her. He still felt lost though, drifting aimlessly underneath a black sky in a wide sea. It was all too tempting to become the man he'd been before, to throw the mask back on. But the smiles on his children's faces, the sound of their laughter – even their arguing – was not worth sacrificing just so he could feel slightly better.

He was not going to be that man again.

 _However_.

This thing with the governess was at an end. It wasn't worth the aggravation. She was going back to that damn abbey in less than a month anyway so he needed to get used to not having her around. This thought caused his stomach to drop and his heart to race. What would he do without her? He took a sip of his drink. No, he'd be fine, he told himself, and tried to ignore the automatic ream of little voices in his head that told him he was fooling nobody.

He had time though; he would distance himself from her gradually. Try and let whatever spell she'd woven loosen its hold.

"Georg?"

Looking up, Georg frowned at the sight of Max sidling through an aisle of towering shelves filled with old books and plonking down on the settee across from him, a cigar in one hand and a glass of brandy in the other.

"Can I help, Max?" Georg asked irritably.

"I'm not sure," Max said. "I doubt it."

With a roll of his eyes Georg shifted his position in the armchair he was occupying and fixed his friend with a hard stare.

"Then what the hell do you want?" he asked. "I am trying to enjoy some peace and quiet before tomorrow. I thought you were with Elsa."

Max shrugged and took a pull from his cigar and blew the smoke out slowly before replying.

"I was," he said. "But she retired. I think she got a headache from all your stupidity."

Georg said nothing.

"She told me what happened, Georg," said Max airily. "And while she doesn't seem to know what has gotten into you, I do."

"Oh, please, do enthral me with your acumen, Max," Georg drawled sarcastically.

The man nestled himself more firmly into the couch and a small grin spread across his face. Georg knew Max liked to show off, it was usually highly amusing when it wasn't aimed at him.

"Elsa thinks you're upset because you haven't thrown a party since Agathe died and your feeling all guilty about her," Max said. "She thinks that you subconsciously feel like your betraying her memory or something – she knows the ballroom was Agathe's favourite room."

Georg listened as his friend wittered on and he wondered why he hadn't thought of that reason himself. It was valid enough in terms of credibility. Why didn't he think of it?

Because it wasn't true. Which was startling. It should have been a reason he would not want to throw a party. Everything he had done in the past four years had been because of the memory of his late wife. Whether it be because her memory made him angry, guilty, sad – it had all been because of her. Somewhere, somehow, he had stopped treating her memory as something to be shunned and hated.

"Anyway," Max waved a hand as he spoke. "I know that's a load of tosh." Taking a large gulp of his drink, and sprinkling cigar ash everywhere, the man continued with a pointed look at Georg. "I know Elsa isn't dense, so I'm sure she suspects what I know, but nevertheless…"

Max let the sentence hang like a noose and Georg wasn't stupid enough to go and stick his head in it. He simply sipped at his own brandy and regarded Max with an amused smirk.

"I see you've ditched the jokes and are now trying your hand at wisdom," Georg said casually. "Dangerous, Max."

"Well, don't you want to know what I think?" Max asked.

With a put-upon sigh, Georg raised an amused eyebrow. "Max, I didn't even know you were capable of thinking." When his friend let out an offended grunt, Georg added, "And no, I don't care. You're worse than the little old ladies that frequent those overly frilly café shops."

Standing, Georg drained the rest of his drink and left his empty tumbler on the side table before he moved to leave the library. He could at least lock the door to his own room and get some much needed peace. There was a muffled thump as Max placed his own glass down heavily and shuffled across the rug to follow him through the winding rows of books.

"Georg!" Max whined. "You have to listen to me. I'm being serious!"

"Thinking and being serious? You must be ill," Georg remarked at they reached the end of the aisle. He went to move to the closed door but was stopped short when Max spoke again, his voice having lost all trace of teasing.

"I _saw_ you, Georg."

Feeling slightly winded by his friend's serious declaration, Georg froze. Max was always a jovial man, and in the many years that Georg had known him the amount of times he had heard his friend speak in such serious tones could be counted on one hand.

"Doing what, exactly?" Georg asked, arching an eyebrow in question as he turned to face the man.

"I saw you outside," said Max. "With the governess."

"So?" Georg asked as he tried to ignore the cold dread that had managed to seep its way into his veins. "I'm allowed to go outside and so is the governess."

"In the middle of the night?"

"It wasn't planned," said Georg, feeling his control slip a little. "I went outside and she was there. The end." At Max's disbelieving face he added, "Nothing happened." Was _everyone_ awake that night, Georg wondered?

"You were holding hands," Max went on.

An invisible hand clutched at Georg's heart and he struggled to breathe for a moment. With a flex of his fingers he tried to ease the terror that had taken hold.

"What were you doing? Spying on me?"

"I happened to wake for a snack and I saw you both walking up to the house," said Max. "Both you and Elsa are good friends of mine and I hate to see you throwing away such a wonderful woman just because you're seducing the help."

The anger, which was always slowly simmering away, burst at that statement.

"Seducing the help?" Georg repeated, his voice full of venom. "I would never do such a thing, Max. And not only is that a slander on me, but on her as well. Anyway, she isn't the help either. She is not part of my staff, she's the children's governess."

"That makes it so much better," said Max sarcastically. "Come on, Georg, you can't fool me. Fine, I will admit I didn't think you'd done anything but when I saw you two last night and then what happened this morning with Elsa, well… I already told you I _know_ you're attracted to that girl – don't deny it! Hell, anyone with half a brain can see that. I've never seen you watch someone so closely before-"

"She's in charge of my children, of course I am going to keep an eye on her."

"Ha. An eye on her. You keep both on her at all times, old man. It's possessive the way you look at that little nun. Like you want to devour her."

Bristling underneath Max's interrogation, Georg brought himself up to his full height and regarded Max with a raised eyebrow.

"I know you must be bored, Max, but this is ridiculous," he said.

"Then why have you ended things with Elsa?" Max asked. "And I say that lightly as I don't think she's letting you go that easily. She thinks you're being ridiculous and frankly I must agree with her."

"Max, I do not wish to discuss my relationships with you."

"You've got to hear it from someone, Georg," Max continued. "You're acting like your twenty again – okay, maybe not that badly-" He paused. "At least to my knowledge."

"I am not sleeping with the governess!" Georg hissed as he stalked towards the library door.

"Fine, but you certainly act like you want to. You've been seeing Elsa for-"

Georg turned sharply and glared impatiently back at his friend. "I said I don't want to hear anymore from you."

"I know you don't but you've got to!" Max let out a heavy a sigh. "I'm sorry, Georg, but I don't know what you are trying to achieve. You and Elsa work so well together and it pains me to see you throwing that away because of some girl-"

"You mean it pains you to see all that money going," Georg interjected.

"-A girl that you can't even have! I know people talk about having a midlife crisis but come on. Be serious, man!"

"Max," Georg said icily as he placed a hand on the doorhandle, "do step out of character for a moment and shut up."

Seething, Georg wrenched the library door open and left his friend behind, ignoring the repeated call of his name.

He had no care for the things Max had said. It was unnerving hearing his friend be so serious. And it was frightening to know that someone else had noticed the way he looked at the governess. Of course Max had mentioned it earlier but the way he had phrased it this time had hit too close to home. He did want to devour her. To possess her completely. To be able to claim that mouth and render her speechless. God. The wanting and longing was palpable. No wonder Max had noticed.

And he had seen them together last night. It was just as Georg had said though, nothing had happened. _But she held your hand_ , a voice whispered. She didn't let go. There was no need for her to hold on but she did.

She _did_.

* * *

A/N Happy New Year everyone! The next two chapters are ready to go so they will be up soon.


	7. Enjoy the Silence

Chapter Seven: Enjoy the Silence

 _Words like violence  
_ _Break the silence  
_ _Come crashing in  
_ _Into my little world  
_ _Painful to me  
_ _Pierce right through me  
_ _Can't you understand  
_ _Oh my little girl_

 _All I ever wanted  
_ _All I ever needed  
_ _Is here in my arms  
_ _Words are very unnecessary  
_ _They can only do harm_

* * *

Readjusting the Maria Theresien cross around his neck, Georg glared at himself in the mirror. It had been a demanding and tiring week with the amount of work he'd taken on to keep himself busy. And the last few days had been filled with a flurry of activity as the house was primped and primed for the party that was to be held this evening.

The party.

He sighed as he flicked a non-existent piece of lint of his lapel. He just needed tonight to be over as quickly and painlessly as possible. Today had been nothing but awkward and tense. Elsa had been perfectly polite to him, but there had been the definite undercurrent of unease whenever he was with her. And then there was Max; the man had been keeping an eye on him all day and so Georg had done his best to avoid the governess at all costs. Or, if she was in the same room, he had made a point of interacting minimally with her. But with the whole house getting ready, he'd barely had a chance to see her, except during breakfast and lunch.

Georg cast one last glance in the mirror before he headed downstairs and tried to mentally prepare himself for the night. He heard the gentle tap of heels across the marble floor as he stood by the front door and saw Elsa gliding out of the ballroom, her tall frame encased in a golden fabric that shimmered under the chandeliers. She looked beautiful; there was no denying it. She managed to flash him a smile, it was slightly predatory, and Georg felt the unease settle once more in his stomach.

"Ready, Georg?" she asked as she snaked a possessive arm around his.

He nodded and gestured for Franz to open the doors. His mind wandered as he greeted guests, introducing them all to Elsa as they entered. The faces and names were all blurring together - though, there was a flash of anger as Herr Zeller entered and he wondered briefly why Elsa had invited the odious man. But the thought was pushed aside when he saw the children pass through the hall and into the ballroom, the governess trailing happily behind them. He turned away from Elsa and the arriving guests - managing to extricate his arm from Elsa's grasp - to watch the governess until she was out of sight.

She'd been wearing a dress he'd never seen her in before. It looked more traditional and he wondered briefly where she'd gotten it. After all, he had instructed her to dress suitably for the occasion and he had hoped that she'd wear the lovely blue dress she'd worn the night of the puppet show. She still looked beautiful despite her simple dress, even compared to Elsa and her expensive gown. He was sure the governess would look lovely in anything; an unbidden thought remarked that he was even surer she'd look better in nothing.

Turning back towards Elsa and the incoming guests he tried to focus on the party and not what the governess looked like without a dress on. After the guests had arrived, Georg led Elsa into the ballroom and began to mingle with the bores he detested. As hard as he tried to focus on the tedious conversation, he couldn't. He found his eyes were constantly seeking the whereabouts of his governess despite himself. He didn't see her but he did spot his eldest daughter as she conversed with the Baron and Baroness Ebberfeld. Leaving Elsa behind, he made his way towards the small group.

"Good evening," Georg said as he approached.

"Oh, Georg!" said Baroness Ebberfeld. "I cannot believe this is your Liesl." She gently touched a gloved finger to Liesl's cheek. "She's grown up into such a lovely young lady. Oh, I remember when she was so very little and Agathe used to bring her around to the house and she'd sit on the floor playing with the dogs." The woman gave a happy sigh. "Wonderful times."

Georg nodded and smiled at Liesl. "Hmm, yes."

He listened as the woman chatted away, happily recalling old memories and he noticed the way Liesl listened with earnest. He gave Liesl a reassuring smile and dropped his voice just so she could hear him.

"Where is your Fraulein?" he asked.

"I'm not sure, Father," Liesl replied. "She was with me before. Maybe she's with the little ones?"

With a practised eye, Georg scanned the room. He spotted his other children, most of them grouped together, but no governess. A surge of irritation made his brow furrow and he left Liesl behind as he began to weave through the crowds. It was a relief of sorts to be irritated with her and he held onto that irritation gladly, letting it roll over in his stomach until it mutated into angry frustration. She was the governess after all, she was _supposed_ to be looking after his children!

It was then that he spotted her; she standing in corner near the courtyard, one shoulder leaning against the jamb of the open door. Amidst the sea of women in their high heels and tall men in waistcoats, she'd been hidden. But he could see her clearly now. She had her eyes on Marta, Gretl and Kurt as they spoke to an elderly duke, her lips slightly quirked into a contented smile as she watched his children.

As he approached, her gaze shifted and fixed on him. Her brow furrowed for a moment and he saw her body – which had been pretty relaxed – stiffen.

"Yes, Captain?" she asked as he joined her.

"What are you doing, Fraulein?" he drawled.

"I'm standing in my corner, making no noise and pretending I don't exist."

Georg stared at her for a moment in confusion, all traces of irritation vanishing. "What?"

She gave a lopsided shrug as she returned her gaze to his children. "One of the your guests said something about a governess being seen but not heard." She scowled briefly, her blue eyes flashing. "I didn't want to embarrass you or your children so I'm standing here in my corner."

"This is my party and you are looking after my children, you can stand wherever you please. You can go dance for all I care."

She took her eyes off the children and looked at him at that, her eyes searching his. "I don't think that's the right etiquette for this sort of soiree, Captain. I know my place. I'm just the governess."

Those four words cut through Georg's heart, sinking in and leaving nothing but pain behind. She wasn't just the governess; she had never been just the governess. How could she possibly think that? Yes, it was true that was what he'd been trying to tell himself for the past month – hell, he'd just told himself that not a minute ago. He was the one that refused to use her name. As if saying it aloud would let the world hear how he felt. Even in his own head he refused to say it. He couldn't admit to himself how he felt. So, he hid behind her title, using it as a shield. She was always 'the governess' or 'fraulein'.

But now, hearing her say it in that dismissive tone of voice, hurt him. She was so much more. She was everything. And he was gripped with the urge to say her name. He wanted to whisper it in her ear as he told her all the things he was going to do her while he held her close. He wanted to cry her name out like a prayer as he let himself give one last thrust before collapsing in a sweaty mess with her, her limbs tangled with his own.

 _God_.

He wanted her to say his name. Over and over and over again. The desire to see that mouth of hers parted in pleasure as she moaned his name made his skin catch fire and a heady tug of arousal pull at him invitingly. He could practically feel her hands on his back, clutching at him desperately. She was a wild animal, just like he'd said, and he wanted to tame her. Just enough, just enough so that she'd be his. Forever.

Georg bit down hard on his tongue until he tasted the sharp metallic tang of blood. All of these thoughts had passed by at light speed. The images flicking through his head in a blur of blue eyes, milky white skin and lush lips.

"You are not, and never have been, just the governess," was all Georg managed to say before he left her behind, feeling her eyes burning into the back of his neck as he walked away. He continued to snake his way through the dancing couples until he found what he was looking for: a stiff drink.

After downing a burning gulp of brandy, he slipped out of the ballroom and took refuge in his study. Shutting the door he took a deep breath, his head was reeling. It was scary how easily she could undo him. With just a look, the governess had the power to rip away any self-control Georg thought he possessed. He leant against the closed door and focused on breathing deeply as he removed his gloves. This night hard barely begun and he already wanted it to be over. There was a knock on the other side and he pushed away from the door as it swung open. For one wild moment he thought it might be _her_ but then his heart sunk at the sight of Elsa.

"Oh, hello, Elsa," he said as she came in, shutting the door behind her.

"What are you doing in here, Georg?" she asked coolly.

"Ah," he said, "Nothing, just needed a little fresh air."

"In your study?" she asked suspiciously as her eyes darted briefly around the room before she shook her head dismissively. "Anyway, you should return – you are the host."

"I will, shortly."

Elsa frowned at him, her lips pursed as she regarded him. "You know," she said slowly, "it doesn't look good, you slipping off into your study."

"It's my house, Elsa, I can do as I please," he replied smoothly.

"Mmm," she agreed, though there was no warmth there. "You didn't look very pleased to see me just now, Georg, darling, perhaps you were hoping… maybe waiting, for someone else?"

Not letting her words get to him, Georg simply said, "I just wanted some space. You know I do not enjoy this kind of thing."

"Of course," Elsa said, her tone clearly expressing that she didn't believe him one bit.

"Elsa…" he began, unable to stand the expression on her face. "You've been a wonderful and supporting friend to me these last few-"

Elsa's features momentarily sharpened before she rearranged them back into one of cool detachment.

" _Friend_?" Elsa repeated as she walked further into the study. " _Friend_ , Georg?" She gave him a sly smile as she shook her head in a patronising fashion. "I don't know what you think the word 'friend' means, darling, but what we did the other night is certainly not something friends do."

"I behaved badly the other night, it was a mistake," he said. "I am aware I have hurt you and have been utterly unfair to you - I cannot apologise enough, Elsa. But I couldn't lie anymore; I don't think it's fair to you. I have already told you this."

They stood in stony silence for a moment before Elsa turned and moved back towards the door. When she opened it the sound of laughter, mingling with the sound of the orchestra spilled into the room. It made Georg feel oddly displaced. The sounds coming from the ballroom were supposed to be sounds he was accustomed to: the gentle clink of champagne glasses, orchestras playing waltzes, the constant hum of conversation buzzing from one person to the next. But he hated it. He didn't belong in there; his title might, his medals might, but not him. The person he was didn't belong in there.

He watched Elsa leave, giving him one last glance before she shut the door behind her with a gentle click, muffling the sounds of the party and leaving Georg in the comforting silence of his study. He belonged in here. In the silence. Where you didn't need words.

Because words always lie. People twist them around and make them do unspeakable things. That twenty-six letter alphabet could be formed into hundreds upon hundreds of words which could then be ordered around to tell all kinds of stories. And these stories were always fanciful, especially out _there_ , in the glittering circle of the Austrian aristocracy. Georg liked the truth, well not liked, but he always wanted it. Because it was real. And truth was always much easier to see without words trying to hide it, obscure it, twist it. Truth was in the set of someone's shoulders, in the way their eyes held yours - in the way their _hand_ held yours.

Swearing, Georg stared at the closed door for a few more minutes before running a hand through his hair, trying to dispel the tantalising thoughts of the governess. The urge to stay in here all night was appealing but he knew couldn't hide in his study; he was supposed to be hosting this damn sham of a soiree. His hand closed tightly on the gloves in his hands. This was a complete mess.

With a shake of his head, he walked out of the study and crossed through the foyer and into the ballroom. The music swelled as he made his way through the crowd. He greeted people as he passed, the mask he'd created all those years sliding firmly in place. It faltered the moment his eyes landed on the open terrace. He'd needed air and so he'd headed for the open doors but the air had been robbed from his lungs as he had approached. The governess had clearly taken Georg for his word and she was now trying to dance with his youngest son. The sound of her laughter as they tried, and failed, to do a turn filled his ears and his fingers burned. Without thinking he was putting his gloves back on and making his way towards them. A voice, reminiscent of Max, told him he was being stupid but he ignored it and continued to move towards her and his son.

"Do allow me, would you?" he said, giving Kurt a tap to move aside.

Her lovely face turned to him and after a moment's hesitation a tentative smile spread across it as she took his outstretched hand. The feel of her small hand fitting into his once again shook Georg. He was torn being wanting to feel her skin again and thanking God that he couldn't. His thoughts had been seeping into dangerous territory enough tonight.

 _So, why was he doing this?_

As the dance begun, he felt her relax and she let out a small laugh as he moved her through the steps. He was barely paying attention to the dance, his feet and arms moving on their own. Georg was too busy watching her face; the delighted smile of enjoyment and the way her eyes shone was too mesmerising to look away from. The sight of her exposed neck captivated him as she moved from side to side; and he wondered how soft that skin was and what it would feel like under his mouth. God, all he wanted to do was keep her close and his fingers instinctively flexed, tightening their grip on her hands. As she spun around, her skirts billowing around her, all he could do was watch as she moved away from him and began to dance around him as he clapped in time to the beat of music.

It was just a dance, that's what he told himself as he moved around her. It was just so he could show Kurt but he knew better; really it was the perfect excuse to both touch and look at her. It felt like so much more than a dance. He'd never felt so close to her before. Both her eyes and her body expressed so much that it was utterly intoxicating. It was what he craved. She didn't hide how she felt; it was expressed so openly, so innocently through her smile, through her eyes. There was the undeniable tension that always seemed to surround him when he was with her. It was always there, humming like the strings of a guitar, just waiting to be strummed.

The feeling in his chest tightened and coiled with anticipation as he reached behind him. Her small hand was back in his again as he brought her around to face him. The smile that had adorned her face was gone now. As they moved, the dance requiring them to become entwined closer together, he saw the same look on her face she had given him not so long ago – that look of longing. And he knew, he just _knew_ , that if he acted on what he wanted that she wouldn't resist. It was written on her face.

Whatever sanity he had left reminded him that he was in the courtyard surrounded by his children while his guests were all dancing inside. He shouldn't have danced with her. It was becoming difficult to ignore the feel of her body pressed again his. And she was that close he could also feel her shallow breath on his face. He tightened his grip on the hand near her waist, pressing her even closer to him. There was the sound of her sharp intake of breath as her eyes locked with his.

They paused for a long moment and Georg hardly dared to breathe let alone move. All he would have to do was lean forward and his lips would be on hers. It was the biggest temptation he'd ever faced but before he had a moment to think, or act, she was dropping her hands and taking a step away from him. Her eyes never left his and he saw the blush rise in her cheeks.

"I don't remember anymore," she breathed.

"Your face is all red," he heard Brigitta remark.

Georg was snapped out of his daze when he heard the click of heels accompanied by Elsa speaking.

"What a lovely couple you make," she said as she came to stand next to him and Georg heard the undercurrent of derision in her voice.

He cast a glance towards Elsa and she simply raised an eyebrow at him. He was dimly aware of the children all leaving to prepare for their bedtime song and he simply followed Elsa back inside.

"Feeling better now, Georg?" she asked as they walked back, side by side.

"Elsa…" he began.

"Max was right," she said innocently as she smiled at a passing couple.

"How so?"

"You did manage to find a _friend_ at the party."

* * *

 **A/N** "I'm standing in my corner, making no noise and pretending I don't exist" - based on a line from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

This song, 'Enjoy the Silence', was the main inspiration for this story as I was originally just going to do a one-shot based on the Ländler before I decided to do a whole story. The lyrics in the description are from the same song.

Thank you for the reviews and follows/favourites on this one. It's been a lot of fun to write and I always love hearing from you all :)


	8. Personal Jesus

Chapter Eight: Personal Jesus

 _Things on your chest  
_ _You need to confess  
_ _I will deliver  
_ _You know I'm a forgiver_

 _Reach out and touch faith  
_ _Reach out and touch faith_

 _Your own personal Jesus  
_ _Someone to hear your prayers  
_ _Someone who cares  
_ _Your own personal Jesus  
_ _Someone to hear your prayers  
_ _Someone who's there_

* * *

It was nearly hour later as Georg sat at dinner, idly pushing his food around, that he realised God must hate him. He couldn't blame Him, really. Georg hadn't done anything that suggested he was a good man. Hell, he'd done nothing but behave like an arrogant scoundrel. Agathe would have been ashamed at his behaviour, he knew. How could he have let things spiral so far out of control?

There was the sound of Elsa laughing at some joke to his left that startled him out of his brooding reverie. She seemed to have cheered considerably since the children had gone to bed after singing their little song. So, at least that was something. He glanced over to the empty space next to Max and sighed, letting his fork fall onto his plate with a sad little clatter. He grabbed his wine glass and drained the rest of the sparkling liquid with one gulp.

Where was she? They were halfway through dinner and she hadn't returned. It didn't take that long to get changed. It was possible one of the children had needed her but surely she would have said something? He let his napkin join the remnants of his food on the table and stood up, leaving his guests behind – excusing himself as he went. He could feel the eyes of both Max and Elsa as he left but he didn't care. He had to speak with her.

Right now, the only thing on Georg's mind was her. He could still feel her pressed against him while their eyes were locked. And then there had been the constant looks she'd given him while the children had been singing. It had been like they were both magnets, inexplicably drawn to one another even through a sea of people.

His dismissal of her before dinner had been rude, he knew, but he hadn't been able to look her in the eye. How could he? If he had, what would he have done? He didn't know – and that had been frightening. Instead, he had tried to make polite conversation to a nearby couple. But it had been hard to concentrate. All sounds had been loud but muffled - the music, Max wittering away and even his own breathing.

Zeller had been a strangely welcomed distraction. He'd been able to release some of the tension building inside in the form of controlled disdain – though, it had been a chore to keep the compulsion to strangle the man at bay.

Shaking his head, Georg made his way upstairs into the family wing but there was no sign of the governess in any of the children's rooms. So, she wasn't with them. He didn't think she could possibly be still be getting changed. But, turning on his heel, he headed for her room that lay at the end of the hall - next to the nursery. He knocked but there was no answer and so he entered.

The room was neat and tidy, save for two things. The wastebasket was full of crumpled up paper, some of it having spilled onto the floor, and the wardrobe had one door slightly ajar. Walking further into the room, he opened the door fully and peered inside. There was only one thing in it. It was the blue dress he loved so much. It was the only item hanging in her wardrobe and a cold fear gripped at him. He let his fingers graze against the sheer material before he was searching through her side tables but they all held nothing. The scent of the room seemed to claw at his heart, apart from the dress and the pieces of crumpled paper, it was the only thing of hers that was left. That lingering scent seemed to seep into every part of body and mind, where it both taunted and soothed him.

Leaving her room, he hurried back downstairs. He could still hear people chatting away in the dining room but his mind was fizzing. Where the hell was she? As he stood in the middle of the foyer, the sound of the orchestra just a distant buzz, his eyes landed on the small side table. Sitting there was an envelope. He lunged for it when he saw his title written across it in a small and loopy handwriting he recognised instantly.

Tearing the letter open, his eyes scanned the small note hungrily, searching for any answers. But he was left feeling empty – with more questions than before. She was gone. She had _left_. His hand tightened around the note as a surge of panic flashed within him as he stared at it. Another quick glance at the table made him realise the book of poetry he'd lent her was there too. As if in a dream, he picked it up and let it fall open. It opened onto a bookmarked page - just a small scrap of material nestled inside the musty pages, the same delicate material of her blue dress. Moving the cloth away, he read the bookmarked poem:

 _So, we'll go no more a roving_

 _So late into the night,_

 _Though the heart be still as loving,_

 _And the moon be still as bright._

 _For the sword outwears its sheath,_

 _And the soul wears out the breast,_

 _And the heart must pause to breathe,_

 _And love itself have rest._

 _Though the night was made for loving,_

 _And the day returns too soon,_

 _Yet we'll go no more a roving_

 _By the light of the moon._

He stared at the words for a moment until they blurred as his eyes unfocused. Did she leave it here intentionally? Was he supposed to read this? What the hell was she trying to say?

 _Yet we'll go no more a roving by the light of the moon…_

Her hand in his. Her breath on his face. Her eyes locked with his.

In a split second, Georg placed the book back on the table, and with one hand still tightly clamped on the letter, he bolted for the front door. Surely, she couldn't have gotten far. Before he knew it, he was running through the open gates and down the street. There were only a few sources of light down the long lane but after ten minutes or so he could make out a figure in the distance that was evidently carrying two large items. Picking up speed, he raced down, his feet landing heavily on the ground as he ran.

He saw the figure stop as he got closer and look around, clearly having heard his approach. The sweat down his back was making his shirt and jacket stick and his breath was coming out in ragged gasps as he approached her.

"Where," he began as he slowed down, "the bloody hell-" He sucked in a large breath."- do you think you are going?"

The woman just stared at him, her eyes clearly taking in his dishevelled appearance. Georg noticed she was in the same clothes she'd arrived in and she was also wearing the stupid hat she'd worn too – why, he had no idea. It was the middle of the bloody night!

"Why aren't you at the party?" she asked.

Georg took a steadying breath and tried to loosen the bowtie around his neck.

"You left this note behind." He flourished the letter in his hand.

Her brow furrowed as she glared at him. "Then _why_ are you here? I think I explained myself clearly enough."

"You can't just leave!" he said, pushing his hair out of his face.

"Yes, I can," she said stubbornly. "Captain, please return to your guests."

The governess turned and continued to walk down the street. Georg let out a frustrated groan, followed her and grabbed her arm, swinging her around to face him.

"Captain!"

"Are you insane?" he asked.

" _Me_?" she retorted. "Captain, you are the one that just chased me down the road and is now holding me here while you have a house full of guests." She wrenched her arm out of his grasp and glared at him once more. " _Goodbye_."

Georg watched for a few seconds as she walked down the lane, her pace hindered by her large bag and guitar until she reached a bus stop, the streetlight above it sputtering slightly. He followed her and took both items out of her grasp and placed them on the ground.

"Captain!" she shouted, turning her angry face to him. "Why are you doing this? Can you please just leave me alone?"

Her face had contorted with anguish as she stood underneath the flickering light, and he could see her eyes were filled with unshed tears.

"Please, explain to me why you are leaving in the middle of the damn night," he said evenly.

"I already did!" she said, she gestured to the note still clutched in his hand. "I told you I miss the abbey and I wish to return. You don't need me anymore-"

"That's a lie."

Her shoulders slumped before she rallied herself again, drawing in a deep breath. "No, it isn't."

"Yes, it is."

"I know you don't belong in that abbey and I know you know that too," he said, taking a step closer to her. "Also, I do need you."

She shook her head. "No, you don't. The children don't need me they need you. That's all they ever needed – or wanted."

"I am not talking about the children," Georg said. "I said _I_ need you."

Her lips parted to speak before she closed them. A silence descended and all Georg could hear was her breathing and the distant sound of insects buzzing in the summer night. He was watching her carefully and he saw a flush rise up her neck and suffuse her face before she dropped her head, the horrible hat falling over her eyes. Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed it, flinging it into the dark.

She hastily looked up at that. "What did you do that for?"

"It's an ugly hat," he said simply.

"Why do you always have to criticise my clothing for?" she retorted.

"I do not," he said.

"Do so," she said. "On my first day you wanted me to change out of this dress. Then you said my nightgown was hideous the other night."

"It is."

"Is there anything I wear that you approve of?" she snapped, evidently lost in her own anger.

"The dress you left behind."

A myriad of emotions swept over her face. It never ceased to amaze him how expressive his Fraulein could be. There was pain there as well as shock, disbelief and something else. Then she shook her head and eyed him angrily.

"Ugh!" she said with a frustrating groan. "I don't understand you. You are so-" She waved her hands expansively. "- frustrating!"

"Me?" said Georg. "You're the one acting like some wronged heroine and fleeing in the middle of night. You need to stop reading _Jane Austen_ , Fraulein. You are being overly dramatic."

"You just chased me down the road even though you have a house full of important guests because your _governess_ left," she bit back. "You think I am being dramatic?"

"Yes."

She let out another frustrated groan. "I can't seem to figure you out, Captain. You treat me one-way one minute and then completely different the next. It's so confusing."

Georg felt himself falter at that. There was a silence, filled by the gentle hum of the summer air as they stared at one another.

"Why are you leaving?" he asked with a more level tone of voice.

"I miss the abbey," she replied stubbornly as she stuck out her chin.

"You told me the other night you weren't sure if you wanted to return."

"Well, I have an obligation and I am returning to fulfil it."

"You said you weren't sure," Georg needled. "You made it sound like God had a different path for you."

"Well, I was wrong."

Remembering the poem, Georg asked, "What about the poem you had bookmarked?"

She shook her head and turned her head away from him, shifting nervously under the intensity of his words. "It was just randomly bookmarked."

"Another lie."

"Captain," she sighed. "Why does it matter?"

"It matters because I need to know why you weren't sure about returning to the abbey. Please, tell me why."

She turned her face to his and looked at him beseechingly. "Please, don't ask me."

"I need to know," Georg insisted and dropped his voice, making it soft and inviting like the warm breeze that passed them by. He allowed himself to reach out with both hands and lightly glide his hands up her arms before one hand tilted her chin up so she was looking at him. "You were unsure because you had a dream. And I have a feeling I know what it was."

Her face flushed and she tried to duck her head but his hand held her chin up, not allowing her to look away. She made no further effort to move, she just stared wide-eyed at him and he could feel, rather than hear, her shallow breathing. Swallowing, Georg continued, desperate to know if he was right or not.

"I think you dreamt of things that you couldn't have in the abbey, is that right?" he said as he let his thumb run along the smooth skin of her jaw. She gave an imperceptible nod as she stared up at him.

"Things that frightened you?"

Again, another slight nod.

"But not frighten you like a shadow scares a child in the night. But frighten you because you were sure these things weren't something you wanted. Or needed." Georg paused a moment, caught in the way her eyes shone in the night. He was slightly scared to continue but he needed to know. "Things like someone's mouth hot in your ear as they whispered your name. Things like someone's hands on your skin as they caress those places that burn like a star." His hand had moved to nestle itself in her soft golden hair and he was mesmerised at the sight of her lower lip caught in her teeth as he spoke. Edging closer to her so that he they were nearly pressed together, he whispered, "Things like that, Maria?"

* * *

 **A/N** "So We'll Go No More a Roving" – Lord Byron

Yay, I can finally type 'Maria'. It was a mini challenge I set for myself to write a story where I didn't use her name until Georg actually said it himself. I'd liked to know what you guys thought about it - if you thought of it at all. As a writer it made me feel really removed from her character – especially since it's all from Georg's perspective.

Also, sorry it's short and on a cliff-hanger but it was the best place to cut this or else it would have flowed weirdly. I had two version of this but decided to stick with this one as the other was kinda too much - which is saying something as this was enough Drama.


	9. Halo

Chapter Nine: Halo

 _You wear guilt  
_ _Like shackles on your feet  
_ _Like a halo in reverse  
_ _I can feel  
_ _The discomfort in your seat  
_ _And in your head it's worse_

 _There's a pain  
_ _A famine in your heart  
_ _An aching to be free  
_ _Can't you see  
_ _All love's luxuries  
_ _Are here for you and me_

* * *

Mere seconds passed – or maybe it was only one – but it felt like an age to Georg. Her name had finally managed to escape his lips and he savoured it, relishing the way it rolled of his tongue.

So, he said it again.

"Maria…"

She blinked a few times, as if waking from a dream, and stepped out of his embrace before she delivered a sharp and piercing blow to his face. It stung with the undeniable shrill, cold heat of pain.

She just hit me. She hit me. She. Hit. _Me_.

Georg was stunned. He'd never, _ever_ , had that kind of response before.

Her eyes were wide and she was breathing fast, her fist balled by her sides. Involuntarily Georg took a small step back, slightly concerned she might hit him again. The blue of eyes were bright and glassy, but determinedly defiant.

"Do you think," she began, her voice strained, "that because you are rich, handsome and wiser than I that I will simply bend to your will?" She took in a deep breath. "You are right, Captain, I am not some suffering heroine and I refuse to act like one. And, so, whispering words in my ear shall not earn my body in your bed."

"Please, I-" Georg tried to speak but she wouldn't let him. He felt like his world was slowly slipping away underneath his feet. This wasn't supposed to happen. Things like this didn't happen to him.

"No, don't" she said. "I thought – I _believed_ – you were my friend." She raised her hands to her face and shook her head exasperatedly. "Or at least that's the best I can come to describe what you-" She stopped and dropped her hands from her face. "You were so kind to me, you listened to me - you humoured me. It was nothing but a game to you. And I am not some prize to be won!"

There was a frigid silence, the tension hanging thick in the warm air. It was cut when the roar of a bus came speeding down the dark road; it's appearance oddly surreal. It pulled up beside them, the doors creaking open.

Georg watched as she picked up her bag and guitar before moving towards the open door.

"Please, Maria, don't go," he implored.

She gave him the strangest look, her freckled face crumpling slightly before she gave a sad shake of the head.

"Captain, I must," she said.

"What about the children?" _What about me?_

"They'll be fine, they'll forget all about me," she said. "I'll just be governess number twelve."

There was the blare of the bus's horn.

"Come on, Fraulein," came the voice of the bus driver, "this is the last bus and I want to get home. You getting on or what?"

Gently grasping her wrist, Georg held in her place. "Please, don't go. I know you don't want to."

"This isn't about what I want, Captain," she said, removing her arm from his grip. "I need to go back, I cannot stay here. Can you please respect my decision?"

There was another loud blare of the horn from the bus driver. She stared at him a moment before releasing a deep sigh. Without another word, she turned, got on the bus and Georg, frozen in place, watched as the doors shut with a piercing shriek before it drove away into the night.

 _Can this really be happening to me?_

Once again, Georg felt numb. He was unable to move from his spot underneath the shelter of the bus stop, unable to believe the whole thing had just happened. He'd watched the bus hurtle down the lane until it had turned a corner and disappeared out of sight.

His feet, with a mind of their own, turned and slowly made their way back down the road. He marched stiffly, trying to concentrate on breathing deeply as he went. Was it arrogance on his part? Possibly. But had he really judged the situation that badly?

Everything, every tiny detail, he had replayed in his head at dinner. And not just the dance but every single other interaction with her. He had been sure that she felt _something_. The smiles she had given him, they had brought an indescribable joy to his life. And at first he'd been so obsessed that he hadn't thought to think about _why_ she smiled the way she did at him. He'd been too caught up in the way it made him feel. It hadn't been until lately that he had thought to consider that possibly, just maybe, she smiled that way because seeing him made _her_ happy.

It had been a deliriously dangerous thought, but once he'd considered the notion that she might feel something it had been hard to let go.

These thoughts continued to ruminate in his mind as he slowly made his way back towards the villa, absolutely dreading the surge of questions he was surely about to receiver from his guests. Right now, he didn't want to speak to anyone.

Tomorrow would be awful, what was he supposed to tell the children? He closed his eyes at the thought; they were going to be utterly heartbroken.

The sight of the open gates to the villa made the tension of guilt pull even tighter at his stomach. With the gravel crunching underfoot, he made his way to the side of the house, snuck through the servant's entrance via the kitchens and quickly made his way into his study. The house was much quieter than when he had left and he idly wondered how long he'd been gone. Dismissing the thought, he moved to his desk and had just slumped down into his chair, not bothering to even turn a light on, when a voice in the shadows spoke.

"Where have you been?"

Startled, Georg sat up and switched on the lamp that sat on his desk. The light was low but it cast enough warm light in the room to spot a figure to his right; it was Elsa.

"What are you doing in here, Elsa?" he asked, shooting her a questioning look.

She was seated on one of the lounges near the fireplace, her legs neatly crossed with her hands clasped on top of her knee.

"Waiting for you, Georg," she said simply. "You snuck off and nobody knew where you went. Luckily I was able to keep your guests entertained – I told them you had to see to your children." She leant back into the leather of the lounge. "So, where have you been?"

"Fresh air, Elsa," Georg said in clipped tones. "I couldn't stand another minute in the presence of that rat, Zeller." He eyed her carefully. "Why did you invite him?"

Elsa stood and walked over to his desk carefully. "It pays not to make enemies, Georg. Let them think you're on their side – be noncommittal."

"I will not bow my head to the men I despise, Elsa," Georg muttered darkly.

"I'm not asking you to, Georg," Elsa said, rising from the lounge as she walked towards him. "There's no way to stop it, what's going to happen is going to happen. I don't see the use in worrying about it all."

Georg, who had had enough for one night, stood up sharply. He noted the way Elsa instantly backed up.

"Is that really what you think?" he asked, his voice low.

"Georg, I'm just saying it doesn't hurt to be welcoming to people. You never know what the future holds," she said soothingly. "I'm sorry, darling. I know you aren't fond of his lot-"

"Fond, Elsa? _Fond_?" repeated Georg. "No, I am not 'fond' as you say." He marched towards the door and opened it before turning back around to face Elsa. "Now, I am going to bed. Goodnight."

"Georg! Wait," said Elsa, following him out the door and up the stairs.

Ignoring her, he kept walking. If Elsa didn't quit pestering him, his temper was going to snap. He was barely holding onto his emotions as it were.

"… I am truly sorry, Georg, please," Elsa was saying as they reached the end of the wall where the wings divided off. "But I thought we were going to talk about us – you said you would after the party."

Turning to face her, he saw the hopeful look on her face, her eyes flicking down towards the master suite.

"Elsa," he said. "There is no 'us' to discuss. You can stay here if you wish or you can go back to Vienna, I don't care. But we are done. I don't know what else I have to say to make that clear."

Turning on his heel, he walked briskly down the hall towards his room, not giving a damn whatsoever.

* * *

Now that the governess was gone it was somehow easier to see things more clearly. The impact she'd had on the entire house was monumental, and now she was gone, everything was awful.

The day after the party had been the hardest. It was better now the children were at school – all except Gretl and Marta. But the day after the children had cried and yelled, but worst of all had been the look on Louisa's face. She hadn't cried or yelled, but simply glared at him as if she _knew_ it was his fault.

Of course it was his fault. But how was he to know one dance would upset her so much? The more Georg thought about it, the more irritated he became. But then that irritation turned to guilt and then he just became angry and upset over it all. It was just a horrible cycle.

Some days, he just sat in his study and cursed her name as he angrily went through the children's poor school marks. Some nights, he just lay in bed and sighed her name as he pretended it was her he was thrusting into instead of his own hand.

He had tried writing her letters but they'd all been returned back to him – unopened. When the first week had passed, he'd received a call from the Reverend Mother, her tone cold and distant, saying that Maria didn't wish to hear from him and he shouldn't bother writing any further. Feeling defeated, he had kept the last letter he'd written for her and stashed it in the locked drawer of his desk, telling himself he'd post it one day – Reverend Mother or not.

Elsa had taken Max with her to Vienna – which had made Georg slightly happier – before she'd returned a month later. Much to his surprise, though, she hadn't tried to get into his bed again – or even brought up any indication that she wanted a relationship. After an awkward apology from her regarding Zeller, Georg had decided to settle their differences in order to continue with their business. They'd been able to gain a few shipping contracts, which had meant Georg was reasonably busy and things were going well with his work. Keeping his mind busy had been what he needed. Elsa had also been somewhat helpful with the children; she'd even offered to help Liesl get ready for a friend's debutante ball.

At that point, Georg had been willing to take any help he could get – especially with the children. They had been, for the most part, well behaved. There'd been the occasional tantrum or the 'Fraulein Maria let us!' when he said no to something. But there had been a sullen silence about them. The fact that they'd been doing poorly in school had been clear a sign of their unhappiness. It had been hard to deal with at first, and it had been tempting – very tempting – to break out the whistle again.

" _Whistles are for dogs and cats and other animals, but not for children, and definitely not for me."_

The minute after he'd had the thought he'd tossed the whistle into the lake, the sound of it splashing into the cold water oddly satisfying. And he'd done his best with the children; making sure to play with them, listen to them, read to the little ones at night.

And, so, over time things had improved. A sort of normalcy had arisen in the sadness. It had now been just over three months since that stupid party, and life at the villa had finally settled into a routine of sorts. The children had become less tearful and more animated as autumn came to an end and the crisp cool air brought with it the excitement of Christmas on the horizon.

Things were better, yes, but they wouldn't ever be the same.

* * *

There was a muffled sound that awoke Georg from his sleep. Emerging from his cocoon of blankets, he flicked on his bedside lamp and saw it was past midnight. There was a hesitant knock at his door and then a second later it opened a crack. Then the head of his second youngest daughter poked in.

"Papa?"

"What is it, Marta?" Georg asked, getting out of bed as he hastily pulled some pyjama bottoms on.

"I had a bad dream, can I-" she stepped into the room. "Can I sleep with you?"

His heart swelled at the question. None of the children had ever come to him for comfort, not even when their mother had been alive. They had always gone to straight to Agathe's side of the bed. And they certainly hadn't come to him after she'd passed away. They had always gone to the governess – if they had liked her – or the younger ones went to Liesl. They never came to Georg.

"Of course, sweetheart."

The smile that broke out across his daughter's face was something he never wanted to forget. She ran across the room and hurriedly scrambled up into the bed. Once she was settled, Georg flicked the lamp off and idly brushed a hand across her forehead.

"What was your dream about?" Georg asked quietly.

Marta gave a sad little sigh. "Mother," she said in a whisper.

Georg's hand paused momentarily before he resumed stroking her forehead. "What about her, Marta?"

"She was angry at me."

"Why?" The little girl said nothing and Georg heard her sniff in the darkness. "It's okay, sweetheart, you can tell me. I know your mother wouldn't be angry with you. It was just a bad dream."

"She was- she said..." Marta sniffed again and went on softly, "She was angry because I miss Fraulein Maria."

Georg felt his heart constrict at the mention of her name. "Why?" he managed to ask.

"Because I miss her more than Mother," Marta cried and turned towards him. "I'm sorry, Papa, but I don't even remember Mother! Fraulein Maria was the closest thing to a mother that I've known and I miss her. Why did she leave us? We loved her and she left us. Did we do something wrong?"

"No, no, of course you didn't anything wrong," Georg said soothingly, trying to ignore the guilt that welled inside of him. "She had to return to the abbey. She missed it very much."

"But I miss _her_!" said Marta. "Don't you miss her, Papa?"

 _Yes_. "Well-"

"I want her to come home," Marta said, her voice slightly muffled. "I love her." Georg felt her look up at him. "Don't you love her too, Papa?"

 _I do. Oh, damnit to hell._

* * *

 **A/N** The "Do you think that because you are rich, handsome and wiser than I that…" was slightly adapted and inspired by a scene in Jane Eyre.

Borrowed some lyrics from "No Way To Stop It".

Sorry to those that'll be disappointed with this one but Georg doesn't deserve to get her that easily.


	10. Happiest Girl

Chapter Ten: Happiest Girl

 _And I would have to pinch her  
_ _Just to see if she was real  
_ _Just to watch the smile fade away  
_ _And see the pain she'd feel_

 _Wanted to feel her joy  
_ _Feel it deep within  
_ _Wanted to feel her joy  
_ _Penetrate my skin_

 _Happiest girl I ever knew  
_ _Why do you smile the smile you do_

* * *

Georg sat at his desk, a pen in hand as he stared unseeing at a piece of paper. He'd been determined to write to her. To try one last time and tell her how he felt. To explain his actions to her. To make her understand. But he hadn't known what on earth to say. So far he'd only written her name. His words had failed him.

Too preoccupied with his thoughts, he didn't notice when the door opened and Max sauntered in.

"What are you doing, Georg?"

Hastily slamming his pen down, Georg couldn't help the guilty look that crossed his face. Looking up into the face of Max, his friend simply raised his eyebrows in question and slumped down into the seat in front of his desk.

"Something you're not supposed to be doing, I'm guessing?" asked Max, leaning forward as he tried to catch a glimpse at what he had written. Before he could act, Max's hand shot out and grabbed the letter. He paused and then eyed Georg seriously. "You must be joking?" He shook his head. "Why are you writing to her?"

With a deft hand, Georg snatched the letter back. "It is none of your concern, Max."

Rolling his eyes, Max heaved a sigh. "I thought we'd been over this, Georg. I thought _you_ were over this… ridiculousness. It's been three months!"

"I need to talk with her, Max," he replied stiffly. "And it is not ridiculous."

They sat in silence a moment, both men weighing the other up. Georg was unsure as to whether he should be honest with Max; yes, he was his oldest friend. But, still. Georg was afraid to say it aloud. He didn't want to sound like an idiot, to profess to feelings he shouldn't have. To confess he felt something for someone he shouldn't have any feelings for at all. He shouldn't want to claim the young woman that had spent two months nurturing and loving his children when he couldn't. But, he did.

After a while, Max finally spoke.

"Georg," he said slowly, his tone cautious. "Do you love her?"

He felt like he'd been slapped in the face. Had he been that transparent? The first initial reaction he'd had was to deny it, but what was the point?

"Yes," he admitted. "I do."

Max sighed, and leant back in his chair with a small thud. "Did you let her see how you felt?"

Georg's brow creased. "I don't know. Possibly. I tried to stop her from leaving."

It was Max's turn to be confused, as he tilted his head to side and asked, "Stop her?" He leant forward again, slowly resting his hands on the top of Georg's desk. "You said she left a note and was gone in the morning."

"I found the note during the party," said Georg. "I went after her, but she refused to come back." He paused, recalling the horrible events of that night. Of his overinflated ego and her sharp dismissal. "She hit me."

" _What?"_

"I tried to persuade her not to leave," Georg muttered, feeling uncomfortable under the scrutinising gaze of Max. "But she wouldn't have any of it. She thought I wanted her in my bed."

"But you do."

Georg huffed angrily. " _Yes_ ," he growled reluctantly. "But I didn't just – I don't just want that. I swear, Max. But she just wouldn't listen to a word I said. She was so adamant about leaving that I could do little else but watch her get on that damn bus."

Another silence fell in the study, the air thick with unsaid words as Georg tried to calm the anger that had started to boil again. It was just so easy to be angry with her, to blame her stubborn refusal to listen for the way he felt. She was the one that had run away and so he had gone after her. Done what all those stupid fops did in those bloody novels she liked to read. But she hadn't wanted a bar of it.

 _Why did she run?_

He distinctly felt like he had missed something, there had to be something. While he knew his thoughts towards the governess had been nothing close to innocent, he certainly had done his best – up until the party that is – to keep a respectable distance from her. Yes, a few times he had struggled. But he had never crossed a line. Never given in to the temptation to simply just pull her across the desk and ravish every inch of her skin.

His hand, which was had been gripping his unfinished letter, released the crumple paper. And then he stood, fixing his friend with a hard stare.

"Max," he said, "I don't know what I was thinking, but please can we not discuss this again."

He didn't bother to wait for a reply but simply stalked out of the study and headed for outside.

* * *

After getting into his car, he'd driven – very fast – down the winding roads of Aigen, going nowhere in particular. He'd managed to fuel himself into a rage over the whole ridiculous situation. It was illogical, they way he was acting. But he had no idea what he was supposed to be doing.

He felt at a loss, stranded at sea with no ship, no crew and no hope. What would he have written in the letter? Professed his love to her? Would she have even have read it?

The questions kept running through his head and he had no answers to give. Just more questions.

The car came to a stop, the engine winding down as he put it in park and stared at his hands on the steering wheel. Without thinking, he'd driven all the way to Nonnberg Abbey. His eyes raked the looming building, and driven by the questions in his head, he got out of the car, slamming the door behind him.

He rang the bell, his fingers twitching as he waited for someone to come to the heavy iron gate. A few minutes later a nun appeared, her smiling face and pleasant voice welcoming him to the convent. In tones of commanding authority, he demanded to speak to the Reverend Mother. He then waited, for what seemed like hours, until he'd been lead into a warmly lit chamber where the Mother Abbess had agreed to see him.

The woman entered, and she was cool, but polite, in her stiff manner towards him. She seated herself behind a desk that took up one wall of the room, and gestured for him to take a seat. Deciding to get straight to point, he said that he needed to speak with Maria; but the woman's face momentarily lost its aloof demeanour, her face creasing in confusion.

"She's not here."

Georg stared. "What do you mean?"

"What I said, Captain, she isn't here," replied the Reverend Mother. "Maria left us just over two months ago."

 _Gone?_ "But what about her vows?"

"The life of the sisters was not the one she was born to live," replied the old woman slowly. She clasped her hands together and rested them on the desk. "When I sent her to you, I thought she might realise that a life inside these walls was not for her. I did not expect her to return the way she did – if I had ever expected something like that I would never have sent her to you."

Georg shook his head. "I am not sure what she has told you but I don't understand why she refuses to speak with me."

The nun regarded him carefully, her sharp eyes piercing right through him.

"Are you not engaged to a Baroness Schraeder?" she asked.

"No."

"Are you planning to be?"

" _No_."

The Reverend Mother paused and leant forward slightly. "Maria would not tell me much, she is a private person. But she said enough. And what she said was that you were marrying a Baroness Schraeder."

"At one point, I did plan to marry Elsa – Baroness Schraeder. But I had ended our relationship," said Georg.

"Well, this Baroness told Maria that you wished to keep Maria on, after the summer had ended." The Reverend Mother stopped and took a breath before continuing. "She made it quite clear to Maria that if she stayed, she would be persuaded to conduct an inappropriate relationship with you."

The simmering anger burst at that.

"I would never do such a thing!" Georg said emphatically. "Why would she listen to Elsa?"

"I do not know, Captain, but she was adamant that she didn't wish to hear from you."

Standing, Georg began to pace inside the small chamber as he ran a hand through his hair. The anger was back, his stomach churning. How dare Elsa?

Georg stopped pacing and faced the nun once more. "Please, Reverend Mother, whatever Elsa said to Maria isn't true. I would never do such a thing. And certainly not to Maria." Walking back over to the desk, Georg sat down, his eyes seeking hers. "You believed me to be an honourable man, and while I know I am not a perfect one, I swear that I would never have done, or tried to do, such things to the governess you placed under my care."

The woman in front of him said nothing but held his gaze. Trying desperately to convey that he was being sincere, Georg held his gaze with hers, trying to tell her without words how much he had come to care for the woman that had been sent to him.

After a moment, the Reverend Mother heaved a sigh. "Captain von Trapp, I like to think I am a fairly good judge of character. I was surprised to hear the things Maria told me about you, but I know that she is no liar." She fixed him with a sad smile. "I know that she is currently with another family, working as a governess. But I do not know where exactly. She visits every Sunday, however."

Sunday. That was four days away. With a curt nod and heartfelt thank you, Georg made his way back to the car.

* * *

When he made his way home, he found Elsa in the study, a pile of papers scattered over the coffee table by the fireplace.

"Elsa," he said in a low voice, shutting the door behind him. "What did you say to her?"

"Say to whom, Georg?" Elsa asked distractedly as she bent over the table.

"Fraulein Maria," he said.

Her face snapped around to face him, a look of surprise on it before she recovered with a strained smile. "The governess? I don't know what you're talking about, Georg." She moved over to his desk and picked a folder full of contracts. "Now, I was thinking-"

"Elsa!" Georg snapped, grabbing the folder off her and tossing it back on the desk. "I know you said something to her, something highly inappropriate."

"I made a mistake," said Elsa stiffly, refusing to meet his eye.

Walking closer to her, Georg asked in a deadly voice, "What did you say?"

"Georg, please, I was just upset and I made a mistake."

"Tell me."

Elsa flinched, visibly startled by the tone of his voice. But he was tired of her games; he needed to know exactly what he'd said to her.

"I saw the way you looked at her," said Elsa after a moment of tense silence, her body deflating in defeat. "And I told her I noticed it." She met his eyes, her blue eyes glassy. "She told me about your midnight walk. And how she helped you back to bed that night you got drunk."

"Nothing happened," said Georg, agitation seeping under his skin.

"Oh, maybe not," Elsa agreed with a sad nod. "But you forget, she's young and so naïve - she looked at you like you hung the moon. Poor thing didn't know what she was feeling." Georg gritted his teeth as she continued. "I told her it was only natural for her think of you that way, she is a woman after all. But I told her she should be careful, I mean, you _are_ Georg von Trapp."

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" Georg spat.

Elsa gave a deep sigh "Oh, come on, Georg. Everyone knows what you were like before Agathe-" she paused and a faint flush suffused her cheeks. "And after. I just… filled her in."

His stomach dropped and a cold fear gripped at him. "What did you say?"

The room was thick with tension and he could see the rest of Elsa's composure slipping in the face of his unrelenting frustration.

"I told her how… passionate you are – in the bedroom," Elsa said quietly, a faint flush suffusing her cheeks. "I told her how you came to my room that night-" She shook her head and let out a short derisive laugh. "Oh, her face! The poor girl was white as a sheet. I told her you didn't know up from down that night and probably would have gone after anything with a pulse." She smiled sadly at him. "Which I guess is what you did do. I told her she was lucky she got away from you that night."

Elsa stared at him as they both stood in the tense and heavy silence. There was just the chime of the clock striking the hour and the rush of blood in Georg's ears.

Elsa moved towards him, placing her hands on his arms. "Georg, I'm sorry. And I've been trying to make it up to you, I swear. I honestly thought you'd get over it." Letting out a deep and measure breath, she continued in a more even voice, "We had been seeing each other for so long. I didn't think you'd really leave me for a girl half your age - and one that wants to be a nun. I was angry and hurt. After I saw you dance with her, I just- I just…"

"I don't even know what to say, Elsa," Georg said finally.

He could barely think. No wonder she'd left. She thought he was some depraved sex fiend who'd have no trouble sleeping with her and then tossing her back in the abbey after. But that was _not_ true.

He loved her.

After all this time, he loved her. He'd been denying it for so long, pushing it away, ignoring it. Trying to turn her into nothing more than her title. Of course it hadn't worked – no wonder it didn't damn well work.

He was brought back to reality when Elsa spoke again.

"I am sorry, Georg," she said. "I really am, but I was just so angry I wasn't thinking."

"If you were feeling so awful you could have just told me the truth, Elsa."

Her glassy eyes closed briefly before she replied, "I refused to believe that Captain von Trapp had fallen in love with his governess."

Georg just stared at her. Two people in one day?

"You fooled nobody, Georg, except maybe yourself. I was just too selfish, too stubborn, to see it. Too desperate to cling to a man that never really existed." She let out a sad sigh and fixed her glassy eyes on him. "I shouldn't have done it, I know. I promise I will make things right."

* * *

Sitting at his desk, Georg wasted the rest of the afternoon trying to get through paperwork, but it was pointless. His heart and head just hurt. The thought of having to wait until Sunday just for the mere chance of seeing Maria was testing his patience but he had no other means of contacting her - had no idea where she was.

An hour ago, Max had come in and asked to borrow his car and he'd been too preoccupied with his own internal demons to really care. So, he'd tossed the keys to his friend with a grunt and then shut the door before he retreated back to his thoughts.

He was still incredibly angry with Elsa, but not as much as he should have been. He knew he deserved it. Maria hadn't, though. If Elsa had decided to torture him, he would have understood. But it had made not only Maria suffer, but his children. Her actions had hurt his whole family.

Family. Georg had only just become accustomed to being a family once more before Maria left. Things _had_ improved since she'd left but there had still been something missing. And it was her.

He remembered an old comrade who had a hand removed due to infection and he would sometimes say how he could still feel it there and he would find himself surprised when he went to use it and nothing happened. Georg felt like that now. But not with his hand, but with his heart. It was like it didn't work properly without her. She had managed to keep it pumping, to stop it from freezing over.

There was some sort of commotion outside, earlier he had heard the roar of his car returning and then the ringing of the bell for dinner – all of which he'd ignored. With a quick glance outside, he saw the setting sun slip behind a mountain, the only light now coming from the crackling fireplace.

There was a knock on the door but he continued writing, knowing it was probably Max returning to question him further after his little jaunt.

Another knock.

"Not now, Max," said Georg. "I'm busy."

The door opened, and Georg continued flicking through endless reports, not really taking in any of the words. There was a click as the door closed and he dimly registered the sound of footsteps crossing over the carpet.

"I said not now, Max," he muttered.

 _"Captain."_

And there she was, her hands twisting in front of her as she smiled at him nervously.

* * *

 **A/N** I wrote three different versions of this as I ended up hating my original idea, so that's why it took so long for me to update.


	11. World in My Eyes

Chapter Eleven: World in My Eyes

 _I'll take you to the highest mountain  
_ _To the depths of the deepest sea  
_ _We won't need a map, believe me_

 _Now let my body do the moving  
_ _And let my hands do the soothing  
_ _Let me show you the world in my eyes  
_ _That's all there is_

 _Nothing more than you can feel now  
_ _That's all there is_

* * *

Time stopped. Georg's heart thudded and he swallowed hard as he stared at her.

She looked exactly the same as he remembered, though she was wearing a winter dress and a pink scarf was hanging loosely around her neck. In the low light, he could see her face was flushed from the cold wind of outside.

He shook his head, trying to focus. Was she really there or was he having some horribly wonderful hallucination?

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

She let out a shaky breath. "Herr Detweiler brought me here."

"How?"

"The Baroness," she said. "She got me a job as a governess to three little girls just on the outskirts of town. She knows the parents."

Elsa knew where she was this whole time? He felt the flash of anger, but it didn't catch. He couldn't keep a hold of his outrage, still too floored that she was really standing there.

Georg had believed that if he saw Maria again, he wouldn't have been so stunned. That he wouldn't have felt as if his whole world had suddenly shifted. But, before today, every time he had imagined bumping into her, she had always been wearing the habit and wimple. Not some lovely woollen dress that clung to every curve. Nor had she been standing before him in his study.

As he looked at her more closely, he noticed she looked a little different. It was possible it was the dress but it was more in the way she stood. There was an air of confidence about her, she seemed somewhat older than the last time he'd seen her.

Standing, Georg walked slowly around his desk until he was facing her. She was only a few feet away, but it still felt like there was some invisible barrier between them. It was clear she was nervous, despite her effort to be appear unfazed. Her eyes keep darting away from his, not able to look at him any longer than a few seconds.

"Why have you come back?" he asked.

"I wanted the truth," she said slowly. "Herr Detweiler insisted I come back and hear what you had to say." She paused, taking a deep breath. "That I would want to hear what you had to say."

"Before I do, I want you - I need you - to answer a question," he said. "And I want an honest answer." She swallowed visibly but nodded her head slightly. "I need to know why you didn't return to the abbey."

She was quiet a moment before she spoke, her voice sad in the warm room. "I knew I didn't belong there and that I never would. I didn't feel the same as I did before. Before I came here. I changed." She raised her head and her eyes met his. "I thought for a long time, that I was in the wrong place. I wasn't. I was just living the wrong life."

"I wrote to you."

"Yes," she said, her eyes darting away again. "But I didn't want to listen. The Reverend Mother told me I had to find the life I was born to live, but I didn't know what that was. All I knew was that it wasn't Nonnberg."

"You could have come back to us." _To me._

"No, I couldn't have," she said. "I was too scared. And I told the Reverend Mother what the Baroness had said… about you."

"What Elsa said to you wasn't true," said Georg. "I had ended things with her – or at least I had tried. I wasn't going to marry her."

"I didn't know that," she said quietly.

There was silence as she dropped her head again and stared at her hands as they twisted in front of her. Georg felt his thoughts running through his head, each one overtaking the other in their effort to be voiced. There were too many emotions running through him and he had no idea where to start.

"I cannot make speeches, Maria," he said, taking a few steps closer to her. "If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more." She looked up at that, her large eyes fixed on him and he held his breath.

She just stared at him for a long moment until a small smile pulled at her lips.

"You stole that from Jane Austen," she said. "I thought you believed it was nothing but nonsense."

Georg managed a grin. "You don't think it is."

"Do you mean it?" she asked. And he heard the uncertainty. And the hope.

"I don't know what to say to make it clear that I will not get over how I feel," he went on. "I tried for so long to ignore what was happening between us-" He saw her open her mouth to protest but he kept on talking, "Don't deny it, please. While it may not have been right to fall in love with my children's governess, it is the truth."

"The Baroness-"

"Lied," Georg said, clasping both her hands in his. "I was completely unfair to her, I know. And I was unfair to you as well."

"But, Cap-"

"My name is Georg," he said, his voice low. "And I love you, Maria."

Talking was obviously getting him nowhere, so he pulled her into him gently. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he pulled her into him and let his lips finally capture hers. He hadn't given a thought about whether she'd hit him again or not, but he found he didn't care. If she had, it would have been worth it just to feel her lips against his.

It felt like an age as they stood there, and then he felt her sigh and she melted into him as her hands moved to press against his chest. Every single dream he'd had of her - either day or night - could never had lived up to this. There was no way his imagination could have captured the way her mouth continually sought his. Or the way her body felt underneath his hands. As she clung to him, he felt like his heart had been brought back to life. Breaking away for breath, he let his forehead rest against hers and revelled in the sounds of their panting breaths.

"Are you going to hit me again?" he breathed, unable to help the smirk that graced his lips when she let out a small laugh.

"No." Her face pulled back from his, the light of the fire shimmering in her impossibly blue eyes. "I never should have done that. I'm sorry. But I was so frightened."

"Of me?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. Of myself. Of the way you made me feel. What the Baroness said to me broke my heart. I felt so stupid."

"Why did you listen to her?" he asked, desperate to know why she had believed Elsa.

"Why would you care for me?" she asked. "I was the governess, just some poor mountain girl who had dreams of becoming a nun. What would a big naval hero like you see in me?"

In answer, he pulled her back against him and let his mouth coax a whimpered sigh from her. Starting to feel desperate, his tongue sought hers as he steered her towards the nearest wall, pinning her against it.

"Everything," he said as his kisses burned down her neck. "I see everything in you."

There was the sound of her moaning as he let his mouth explore every soft plane of skin he could reach while his hips anchored her in place. His body was on fire, burning with his desire to claim her then and there against the wall of his study. There was the sobering sound of a knock on the door and they sprung apart, Georg hastily trying to smooth his jacket down.

The door opened and Gretl came in.

"Fraulein Maria!" she yelled, pelting for the woman and wrapping her arms around her waist.

"Hello, Gretl," replied Maria, bending down she give the girl a cuddle in return.

"Father!" said Gretl, turning the Goerg. "I heard Uncle Max saying Fraulein Maria was here but I didn't trust him - which he said was probably a good thing - but I wanted to check!" She turned back to Maria. "Please don't go again."

"I won't go anywhere without saying goodbye," replied Maria.

There the sound of more footsteps and Max sauntered into the room. He had a smug grin on his face, which he aimed at Georg before transfering a beaming smile towards Gretl.

"See? I told you," said Max. "Now you must come back and finish your dinner, young lady."

"Can Fraulein Maria come to?" asked Gretl, her face turning towards Georg.

"If she wishes," said Georg, glancing at Maria who gave him a brief smile she turned towards his daughter and let lead her towards the dining room.

There was the sound of Gretl's excited yells before the became muffled by the sound of the children crying out with delight. He smiled to himself.

"I'm taking Elsa to the hotel for the night," said Max, breaking Georg out of his cloud of happiness. "Then I will drop her off at the station in the morning."

"She doesn't have to leave now, Max," he said. "I won't banish her from this house. Though, I would like to know why none of you told me the whereabouts of Maria."

He turned his gaze upon his friend and waited for a response. Max, never one to take a look from Georg seriously, merely shrugged.

"I think it would be best all round if she left, Georg," replied Max casually. "Besides, I don't think she really wants to be here. And I didn't know where Maria was until she told me earlier today." The man sighed. "Look, Georg, we thought you'd get over it. I never realised how serious you were about her. Elsa told me to help her collect your little nun, so I did."

"You could have told me," Georg muttered.

"We thought you'd appreciate it more if we just brought her here," said Max.

* * *

It was later that same evening that Georg found himself in his study once more. He'd let the children spend time with Maria, and he'd enjoyed seeing them all sprawled out on the floor as each child told her about what she had missed over the last few months. It was a sight he'd missed so much. And the sound. No longer was the house that horrible quiet that seemed to seep into her mind and make the world feel wrong and unbalanced. He had missed the sound of his children's laughter. Of course, he took care not to listen too closely to what they laughed about. He'd learnt early on, particularly when it came to his Louisa, that one should never listen too closely to children playing or else you might hear exactly what it is that has made them so giddy. Which is usually something you do not want to know.

Nevertheless, the house was calm and happy once more. It was the reassuring calmness of the sea on a balmy evening. There was no looming storm. It was smooth sailing.

And while he had tried to live a life under the water, where it didn't matter if storm happened or not, he had come to realise that the storms were what made life worth living. The fear, the hope - that was what made you feel alive. None of us want to be in calm waters all our lives.

* * *

 **A/N** Sorry this took six hundred years to update and that it is short, as I've mentioned in a few other stories my muse has been absent lately and so I struggled with this a lot - like you have no idea. I will be adding a final epilogue chapter, but for now I'm marking this as complete. I apologise again for taking so long.

*I thought for a long time, that I was in the wrong place. I wasn't. I was just living the wrong life. - Call the Midwife  
*I cannot make speeches (...) If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. - Jane Austen 'Emma'  
*None of us want to be in calm waters all our lives. - Jane Austen 'Persuasion'


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